Gilligan's Acres
by WriterGirl719
Summary: On the fourth anniversary of the shipwreck, the castaways are rescued by a friend of the Howells. And when he dies a few months later, he leaves them a surprising inheritance.
1. Chapter 1

This was written a long time ago and kind of sucks. I _promise _the later chapters are better.

I don't own Gilligan's Island. Sherwood Schwartz does.

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It was a lovely day on the island as Gilligan went down to the lagoon to empty his lobster trap. Although the island itself didn't look particularly lovely to anyone at the moment, thanks to the Professor's announcement that morning that they had been on the island for exactly four years. It was the first time Gilligan had seen anyone else get hit with Skipper's hat, after the announcement made the girls cry. Hopefully, he'd caught some good lobsters for dinner. That should cheer everyone up.

Gilligan had never really been in any rush to leave the island. He was happy there. They were getting enough food, they had shelter, and they were getting along okay. The Professor once suggested that his comfort on the island was the subconscious reason why he was always screwing up their chances of being rescued. But Gilligan still thought it was just him being a klutz.

Gilligan pulled the trap up and found five lobsters inside. He would need two more for dinner. _Well_, he thought, _with Skipper at the table, better make it three._

"Hey, you!" Gilligan stood up suddenly. Had he really just heard that? He looked around, but didn't see anyone.

"You, on the shore!" _On the shore?_ He looked back out to the lagoon and saw...

"A boat?!" Not only a boat, but a guy in a boat. "Oh, boy! A boat! I gotta tell the others! Don't go anywhere!"

"Where am I gonna go?" The man shouted back. "Where are _you_ going?" But Gilligan didn't hear him. He was already halfway across the sand, headed for the clearing.

Mary Ann dabbed at her face with her handkerchief. She couldn't believe it had already been _four_ years! Oh, she missed home. She missed civilization, and her family, and her farm. She didn't even want to think about how her crops must look. Hopefully, someone was taking care of her farm while she was away.

She couldn't say that it was really _that_ bad on the island. It could've been a lot worse. And it wasn't like they were going to be there forever. Eventually someone had to come along that would help them get rescued. Though it wasn't like they hadn't had plenty of guests before. They'd had plenty of chances to be rescued, and they had all fallen through.

"Did you hear that?" Ginger asked. Mary Ann looked up at her and the Professor sitting across from her, but Ginger seemed to be the only one who had heard something. But before she could say anything, she heard Gilligan's voice coming from the forest.

"Was that Gilligan?"

"Yes," The Professor answered. "And he said something about a boat."

As if on cue, Gilligan came running into the clearing, yelling, "A boat! A boat! In the lagoon! It's a boat!" And, of course, he promptly fell on his face in the sand.

Mary Ann instinctively leapt to her feet to help Gilligan to his. "Oh, Gilligan. Be careful!"

"Did you say something about a boat, Gilligan?" The Professor asked.

"Yeah, Professor, down at the lagoon! There's a guy in a boat, and he was yelling at me."

"Well, don't just stand there," Ginger insisted. "Show us!"

"Yeah, follow me." Gilligan turned to take off and again fell over his own two feet. Mary Ann bent down and helped him up again, only to be pulled by her arm off to the lagoon.

Running through the trees trying to stay caught up with Gilligan and Mary Ann, Ginger decided that whatever man invented high heels (because no woman would do something like that to her fellow females) had definitely never had to run in them. They were beautiful shoes, but not sensible in the least, especially on an island. _Although_, she thought, _they weren't exactly made for running across sand or through jungles. Or running at all, actually._

Gilligan was right. (For once.) Just like he said, there was a boat right on the bank of the lagoon, and elderly gentleman (about the Howells' age) casually leaning against it. As Ginger walked across the sand towards him, she noticed he was wearing a fancy suit that probably cost a fortune.

"What's the deal?" he yelled to Gilligan. "You tell _me_ not to go anywhere, than run off on me. Where'd you go?" He suddenly noticed Mary Ann. "And who is this lovely mademoiselle?" He asked in a softer tone, bringing her hand up to kiss it.

"She's not a mademoiselle," Gilligan said. "She's Mary Ann."

Ginger laughed to herself, while their visitor looked at Gilligan as though he were nuts, and Mary Ann blushed. "Gilligan, 'mademoiselle' is a French word for an unmarried lady," The Professor patiently explained. "Such as Mary Ann."

"Oh." Gilligan pointed to the Professor, and told the man, "That's the Professor. He's the smart one."

"I hope so. And you're Gilligan?"

"Yeah," Gilligan answered. He pointed to Ginger. "And that's-"

"Ginger Grant!" The man cut him off, and kissed Ginger's hand like he had Mary Ann's. "Another lovely mademoiselle. Hollywood has missed you."

"Well, I've missed Hollywood." Ginger suddenly felt a little pang of longing for her Hollywood home.

The Professor cleared his throat, and their visitor took his eyes away from Ginger to look at him. "Not to be an ungracious host, but who are you?"

"I, my dear Professor, am Fredrick J. Friedman! And that-" he pointed to his boat "-is the _Mary Jane_."

"Mr. Friedman," the Professor addressed him. "would you be willing to allow us to use your boat to get off the island?"

"Of course I would," Mr. Friedman answered, and Ginger let out a squeal of excitement before hearing what he said next. "If it was still seaworthy. I was tossed around for hours in an awful storm. Everything important probably got drenched."

"What if we could repair it?"

"I believe it's hopeless, my boy." Mr. Friedman took off his hat and held it over his heart, and out of the corner of her eye, Ginger saw Gilligan do the same. "I'm afraid my dear _Mary Jane_ has gone on to the great marina in the sky."

"Well, Mr. Friedman, we salvaged some parts from our boat when we arrived, and perhaps we could use them to fix the _Mary Jane_."

"Professor, if you can fix my boat, you can sail it anywhere you like!"

The Professor smiled. Ginger just _loved_ that smile. "We _sure_ appreciate it."

Mary Ann let out a squeal of excitement. "Oh, we're going home!"

"Could you girls go find the Skipper, please?"

Ginger smiled. "Sure, Professor."

"Maybe you should tell Mr. and Mrs. Howell, too." Gilligan suggested.

"Did you say Howell?" Mr. Friedman said. "As in Thurston Howell the Third?"

"Yeah."

"Thurston Howell the Third, the billionaire?"

"Is there another Thurston Howell the Third?"

"Dear God, I hope not."

"Do you know the Howells?" the Professor asked.

"Yes, yes. They're dear friends of mine! Gilligan, you must show me to them. Tell them that Fredrick Friedman is here!"

"Thurston?"

"Yes, Lovey?" Thurston Howell stood up from his desk as his wife (of twenty-something years) came into their hut, obviously very excited about something. It was a big difference to what her mood had been like earlier that day, when she'd been crying with Mary Ann and Ginger.

"You'll never guess who I just saw down at the lagoon speaking with the Professor, and Gilligan, and the girls. Fredrick Friedman!"

Fredrick Friedman? It was certain now: his poor Lovey had been on this island _way_ too long. "Lovey, have you been drinking that, um, water I keep in the cabinet?"

"No," she answered, sounding suspicious. "Why?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing. I was just wondering." Good, his secret stash was still safe.

"Mr. Howell! Mrs. Howell!" Gilligan's voice came in from outside.

"Oh. why do people insist on dropping by without announcing?"

"Don't worry, darling. It's just Gilligan."

"Hey, Mr. Howell. Mrs. Howell," Gilligan greeted them from the doorway, silently waiting permission to come in.

"Come on in, Gilligan," Thurston said. "What can I do for you. Or, rather, what can you do for me?" He chuckled a bit at his own joke.

"Mr. Howell, you'll never guess who's down at the lagoon!"

"Fredrick Friedman?"

Gilligan's face suddenly wore a look of surprise. "How'd you guess?"

Rather than allow her husband to answer, Lovey turned to face him. "Now, see, I told you I saw him down there."

"Lovey," Thurston tried to reason. "There is no possible way Fredrick could be on this island. He doesn't even know _we're_ here."

"It's absolutely impossible!" Mr. Friedman called from the doorway.

"Thank you, Fredrick. That's exactly what I was trying to say--" Thurston let his words trail off as he realized who he was talking to, before fainting face-down onto the sandy floor of his hut.

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Please review!


	2. The Mary Jane

Thank you for the great reviews of Chapter One! I already have a few more chapters written that I need to upload.

Disclaimer: I do not own _Gilligan's Island._

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"Here you go, Skipper. These are all the parts I could find in the supply hut." The Professor set down a box of boat parts from the _Minnow_ on the deck of the _Mary Jane_, right next to where the Skipper was sitting.

"Thanks, Professor. Oh, where is Gilligan?! He should've been here by now."

"Don't worry, Skipper. He's probably still at the Howells'." But the Professor was slightly concerned, as well. It had been about fifteen minutes until he sent Gilligan off. The Skipper had come just a few minutes later, but not even Gilligan took fifteen minutes to walk from the clearing to the lagoon.

"Here he comes now." Professor turned around, and saw Gilligan walking across the sand to the boat, just as he had earlier with Mary Ann in tow. Only this time he was alone.

"Hi, Skipper."

"So nice of you to join us, Gilligan," he answered sarcastically.

"Oh, that's okay, Skipper. I wasn't doing anything."

_Wrong thing to say, Gilligan_, Professor thought suddenly.

"In that case," Skipper yelled. "What took you so long?!"

"Um, well, I'm sorry, Skipper," Gilligan stuttered. 'But I thought it would be impolite to leave before Mr. Howell came around."

"Came around from what?"

"His fainting."

"He _fainted?_"

"Yeah, but he's okay now."

"Well, I'm glad to hear it," Skipper said, sounding like he meant it, which was no surprise, despite the many fights Mr. Howell and Skipper had had over the time they'd known each other. "Why did he faint?"

"Probably from seeing Mr. Friedman," Professor answered. "It was simply the shock of seeing a good friend after a long time."

"Yeah," Gilligan agreed. "Four whole years."

"Thank you, Gilligan," Skipper said. "We know how long it's been!"

_Thank you, Gilligan._ As if Professor hadn't mentally kicked himself enough for that morning's announcement. He had regretted it as soon as the women started to cry. He hated to see Ginger upset. He hated to see any of the women upset, but their was something about Ginger that got to him. Over the years, his heart seemed to have grown a soft spot for her.

"Gilligan, you and I'll go into the engine room to see what needs to be replaced. Professor, could you go in the cockpit and see if any of the controls are still working?"

"Sure, Skipper." Gilligan started in the direction of the engine room-and ran straight in to the Skipper.

"Gilligan!" He untangled himself and put his hat back on. "Be careful!"

"Sorry, Skipper," Gilligan answered, sheepishly. "It's sort of hard to miss you."

Skipper shot Gilligan a Look that got the point across quite clearly, and the Professor watched as they went down the stairs to the engine room, before going to look for the cockpit.

***

Ginger held up her dress to look at it. She was surprised how many dresses she'd been able to make since they'd been on the island. She'd arrived with one and was leaving with a dozen. She'd made them from some of Mrs. Howell's leftover scraps, and had been very surprised how well they'd come out.

But she didn't really care. Ginger would have been happy to go home wrapped in her blanket. The important thing was that they were going home. Oh, she couldn't wait to see the lights of Hollywood again. To see her agent and his Wife of the Week, and her roommate and sleep in her own bed again, and eat in her favorite Los Angeles restaurant, no matter how bad the food is.

There was, however, one bad thing about leaving. Leaving the island meant leaving the people.

Ginger looked over her shoulder at Mary Ann, standing behind Ginger packing her own clothes. As many times as the two of them had argued over the last four years, Ginger would miss her. Skipper had said the seven of them would get together for another trip sometime soon after they got back, but it wouldn't be the same. It never would be the same again.

"So, what are you going to do when you get back, Mary Ann?"

"Eat," the brunette answered. "A nice juicy hamburger. I barely remember what one tastes like. Then I'm going to go home and take care of my farm. Lord only knows what it must look like. What about you?"

Ginger thought for a moment before answering. "Go shopping. As pretty and fashionable as these dresses are, I never want to see them again."

Mary Ann laughed. "I may have to join you." She sighed. "Aren't you a little bit sad about leaving?"

"Of course," Ginger answered. "When you're in one place for four years, you're bound to be a little sad about leaving."

Silence fell between the two girls. Both knew what they wanted to say, but neither wanted to say it first. Until Mary Ann finally broke the awkward silence.

"I'll miss you, Ginger."

"I know," Ginger replied. "I'll miss you, too."

So there it was. Four years of being part rivals, part friends being summed up shortly and bitter sweetly.

***

Gilligan knocked on the bamboo frame of the girls' hut door. He sure wished they had a doorbell. That bamboo hurt his knuckles.

He heard Mary Ann's voice call through the door. "Come in!"

When he entered, Mary Ann put down the dress she was folding and rushed over. "Oh, Gilligan. Please tell me you have good news."

"I have good news," he responded.

"What is it?"

"I don't know," he answered confusedly.

"Then why did you say it?"

"Because you told me to." Geez, girls could be so weird sometimes.

"Well, Gilligan, how is the boat coming?" Ginger asked. "Can we fix it?"

"I don't know," he answered. "The Professor said we could, but that was before I started helping." He blushed a little as he said the last part.

"So did you come by for a reason?" Mary Ann asked.

"Yeah, so the Skipper and Professor can see if I ruined anything while I was helping." The girls smiled, Ginger amused, and Mary Ann sympathetic. "So I thought I would come and see if you needed any help packing, but it looks like you already have."

"No, we've just started. There's not that much to pack, though."

"I think I'm going to go see how they're coming with the boat," Ginger decided. "I'll be back in a little bit."

So Ginger left and Gilligan began helping Mary Ann pack her clothes. And he realized that packing things just made him sadder about having to leave. _You can tell Mary Ann how you feel_, part of his brain said. _She'd understand._

_No she wouldn't_, another part argued. _She's all excited about leaving._

_Of course she would. She's Mary Ann. When have you __not__ been able to talk to her?_

Gilligan decided to go with the first part of his brain and take a chance. "Hey, Mary Ann, can I tell you something?"

"Of course, Gilligan."

_Told you_, his mind said.

_Shut up. They're talking._

"I'm not sure if I want to leave," Gilligan announced. "I mean, I'm excited about going home, but, well..."

"I know what you mean," Mary Ann agreed. "I'm going to miss everyone, too."

"Even me?"

She smiled at him. "Especially you, Gilligan."

Gilligan smiled and blushed. Why did Mary Ann always make him blush? _Cause she's a girl_, his brain answered. _Girls do that. It's some sort of super-power._

***  
Meanwhile, the Professor was running into Ginger on his way back to the huts, and her way to the lagoon.

"Oh, hello, Professor. I was just on my way to see you."

"Really?" Why was he happy to hear that? _Cause it's __Ginger__, stupid_, part of his brain answered.

"Yeah, I wanted to see how the boat was coming."

"Oh." He was surprised to hear a note of disappointment in his reply.

_Checking on the boat_, the voice in his mind scoffed. _What a stupid excuse._, a second voice replied.

Oh shut up

"Boat's coming along fine. If everything keeps going okay, we should be able to leave sometime tonight. Maybe after dinner."

Ginger let out a squeal of excitement and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Oh, Professor, we were lucky to have you get shipwrecked here with us. I don't know what we'd do without you."

Professor felt himself blushing. "Oh, I'm sure you'd manage..."

"I'm going to go tell Mary Ann."

"Okay." He watched her walk away, and felt horribly confused. Why did Ginger do that?

_Cause she's a girl_, one voice answered. _Girls do that._

Does anyone else have deja vu?

***

That night's dinner was a sort-of celebration. The bags were packed and loaded onto the board, and everyone was dressed in their best (or only) clothes. Mary Ann fixed a special meal, and Mr. Howell donated one of his last bottles of wine, which everyone had some of except Mary Ann (who was still underage) and Skipper (because Mr. Friedman refused to let him sail his boat while drunk).

Mary Ann felt both sad and excited. It was just want she and Gilligan had talked about earlier. How could she go back to her life after spending four years with these people?

But she was going home to her family. Her other family. Leaving her Island Family for her Kansas Family. And her farm. She'd see her farm again, and hopefully it wasn't too bad. It was strange to think that just that afternoon she'd been worried she'd never see Kansas again. And then Gilligan had come yelling about Mr. Friedman's boat.

Gilligan. She felt she might miss Gilligan the most. Sure, he messed up a lot, but he really did a lot for the group. He was the one who'd spotted Mr. Friedman, and when they'd had that blight, he was the one who found a frog that led Gilligan to water. And when he'd found the glue they were going to use to fix the Minnow, he was the one who figured out that it wasn't safe. And he was the one who'd first found Wrongway Feldman's plane.

Although, to be fair, he did mess up a lot too. He forgot to tie the note to Emily the Duck when she finally flew off. Heck, wasn't he the reason they were here on the island? Because he forgot to tie off the anchor?

Sometimes Mary Ann wished Gilligan wasn't so sweet. Maybe then she could stay mad at him for awhile. It's hard to be annoyed at someone when they're giving you a sweet smile from across the table.

***  
"We can't just leave without a launching ceremony!" Mr. Friedman objected. "Are you mad?"

"By George, he's right!" Mr. Howell agreed. "We must do a launching ceremony. Lovey, do we have anymore champagne?"

"No, darling, but we do have that whiskey you hid in the cabinet. Could we use that?"

Ginger smiled at Mr. Howell's surprised expression as Mr. Friedman announced, "Don't worry! I have some champagne down in the kitchen. Excuse me."

"Mr. Howell, I don't know if we have time for a launching ceremony," Skipper objected, as Mr. Friedman passed him on the way to the kitchen.

"Well, we may not if you keep up that attitude," he answered. "It'll go by a lot faster if you cooperate."

Skipper rolled his eyes at the logic, but didn't say anything else.

Mr. Friedman came back on deck, toting a bottle of champagne. "1951! A great year!"

He stood on the edge of the deck with the bottle in his hand, and began. "Ladies and Gentlemen, we hereby christen this vessel, the...um," He thought for a second before looking over the edge at the side... "the _Mary Jane_, and hereby launch her on this important voyage." And he smashed the bottle on the hull.

"Aww...poor Mary Jane," Gilligan remarked.

"What do you mean, 'poor Mary Jane'?" Mary Anne replied.

"If he's gonna hit the poor boat over the head with a bottle, he could at least warn her."

Mary Anne just smiled at him and rolled her eyes.

"Gilligan!" Skipper called. "Pull up the anchor!"

And just a few minutes later, they were off, sailing away from the Island, hopefully, never to return.

***

Ginger looked up at the night sky, and was surprised to feel a sense of homesickness for the Island. That didn't make sense. How could you miss something you'd waited four years to get away from?

_Because you were there for four years_, she thought. And strange as it seemed, she felt a certain fondness for the lagoon, and the coconut trees, and the beautiful plants. Heck, if they had a phone and a larger wardrobe, she might have considered staying. Anything to make it feel a little more like home.

She heard the Professor's voice. "Excuse me. I didn't know anyone was out here."

Ginger sat up and saw him standing in the doorway leading to the cabins below. "Oh, it's okay. I was just lying here, because I couldn't sleep."

"May I join you?" he asked.

"Of course," she answered, and he took a seat next to her. "It's a beautiful night."

"Yes," he agreed. "It's very clear. That's good for sailing."

"Mm-hmmm," Ginger agreed. "So what are you going to do when we get home?"

"Pick up where I left off, I suppose. Although I doubt the school would have held been holding my position open all this time. What about you, Ginger, what are your plans?"

"Go back to acting," she answered automatically. It was the only thing she had even considered. "Maybe I'll go back to Broadway. Would you come see me on Broadway?" She was surprised to hear herself ask that question, but she realized that it made sense.

"Of course," Professor answered, sounding surprised at the question as well.

There was a moment of silence. Not an awkward one, but a silence nonetheless, broken by Ginger announcing, "Well, I should get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

"Good night."

Ginger walked past him and disappeared down the stairs.

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Hope you enjoyed. Please review!


	3. Breakfast

This chapter was written a long time (like a couple of years) after the previous ones, so I think it's better. Hope you enjoy it.

Disclaimer: I do not own _Gilligan's Island._

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The next morning, Mary Ann was up early, attempting to make breakfast in the small kitchen of the _Mary Jane_ as the sun came up over the ocean. She loved this time of day. Usually it was just her and her thoughts and, when she was home, her animals.

Although they had loaded up food for the trip, Mary Ann was surprised to find that Mr. Friedman kept the boat's kitchen stocked. Soon she was frying up bacon and sausage and scrambling eggs, fixing the kind of breakfast they hadn't had in far too long.

She heard a door open, followed by several thumps and grunts and a small crash. Mary Ann smiled to herself. _Gilligan._

Sure enough, Gilligan appeared in the kitchen doorway, putting his hat back on and smiling sheepishly. Oh, he had a cute smile.

"Hey, Mary Ann," he said, coming into the kitchen.

"Morning, Gilligan," Mary Ann said, smiling.

"Ooh, bacon!" Gilligan reached for the handle of the pan.

"Gilligan, careful!"

"Ooh! Ow! Hot!" Gilligan pulled his hand back a few seconds too late.

"Be careful."

"Oh, I'm okay," he assured her. "Anything I can do to help without burning myself?"

"You can set the table."

"Okay." He found the dishes and silverware and began trying to set eight places at the tiny table. When she finished the eggs, Mary Ann brought the skillet over and tried to find a place to set it down, but couldn't.

"I think we're gonna need a bigger table," she said.

"Or smaller people." Mary Ann smiled. Gilligan always thought she had a pretty smile. And eyes. And hair.

"Well I'll take mine and eat outside," he said.

"Oh, you don't have to, Gilligan."

"Well I don't want to get squished." Mary Ann smiled again, and Gilligan got a little lump in his throat. "Hey, Mary Ann?"

"Yes?" she asked without looking up.

"Ooh, breakfast," Ginger said, walking into the room. "Thanks, Mary Ann. It looks great."

"Thanks, Ginger."

"Might be a little crowded, though."

Gilligan picked up his plate and started putting food on it.

"Oh, I'm not staying," he said to Ginger, picking up his plate and silverware. "I'll see you later."

Gilligan left nervously and Mary Ann watched him with disappointment, then quickly looked back down at the table as Ginger looked between the two of them.

"What?" Mary Ann asked.

"Nothing," Ginger said innocently.

"What is that _heavenly_ smell?" Mr. Friedman asked, stepping into the kitchen. The girls smiled.

"Breakfast," Mary Ann said.

"It smells marvelous, darling. I might have to take you with me when I go home."

"Oh, thank you, Mr. Friedman, but I already have a job. I have a farm in Kansas that I have to get back to."

"Oh, a farm! You know, I dabbled in farming. Bought a little property in Oklahoma. Absolutely charming, but too much work for me."

"What are we talking about?" Mr. Howell asked, walking in with Mrs. Howell. The Professor walked in after them.

"Mr. Friedman was just telling us about his farm," Ginger said. Mary Ann got up to get the food.

"Oh, I thought maybe you were talking about a wife." He laughed loudly at his own joke. "'Charming, but-" He turned to look at his wife, who was not amused at all. "Just a joke, Lovey. Just a joke. Here." He pulled out a chair for her and she sat down. He sat down next to her. "My, it is a bit crowded in here."

"That's why Gilligan decided to eat outside," Ginger said. Mary Ann set down two plates in front of the Howells.

"Oh, it looks marvelous, Mary Ann," Mrs. Howell said.

"Thank you," Mary Ann said. She picked up her own plate and silverware. "I think I'll join Gilligan outside."

The Professor set down his plate and took Mary Ann's seat as she left. Ginger felt an odd fluttering feeling in her stomach at his being so close.

Mrs. Howell watched Mary Ann leave and smiled.

"Oh, that's so cute," she said.

"Yes, those two do seem to be sweet on each other," Mr. Friedman said. Mr. Howell and the Professor scoffed, but Mrs. Howell and Ginger agreed.

Ginger looked at the Professor in disbelief.

"Really?" she said.

"I haven't seen any proof of romantic feelings," Professor said.

"What island have you been on the past four years?"

"I was there for a day, and I saw it," Mr. Friedman said.

"Well they're friends, certainly," Professor said. "But I'm not sure Gilligan even realizes Mary Ann is a girl."

"Oh, he's catching on, trust me," Ginger said knowingly.

"Yes," Mrs. Howell said happily. "He's coming along wonderfully, isn't he?"

Mr. Howell gave her a bewildered look as Gilligan stepped into the room.

"Hey, everybody," he said cheerfully as he picked up a plate. Everyone said hello, and he began loading the plate with food. "What were you talking about?"

Everyone spoke at once, with five different answers.

"Oh, okay," Gilligan said. "Well, Skipper's at the wheel. He asked me to come get him some food. I better not keep him waiting."

"By all means," Mr. Howell said.

"Now, Frederick," Mrs. Howell said when Gilligan was gone. "What's this you were telling the girls about owning a farm?"

"Oh, I'm sure he was just joking, Lovey."

"I was _completely_ serious," Mr. Friedman said. "I bought a farm in Oklahoma. I have the deed to prove it, in the safe at home."

"I have to say, Mr. Friedman," Professor said. "You don't seem like a farmer."

"Because I'm not. I got tired of the city life, and the business, so I bought a farm, and moved onto it."

"What happened?" Ginger asked.

"I got tired of it, so I sold it and moved back to the city. Farms are hard work."

"Yes, I try to avoid them," Mrs. Howell said.

"Mr. Friedman," Professor said. "If you sold the farm, why would you still have the deed?"

Mr. Friedman thought for a moment, confused.

"Come again?" he said. Professor chuckled.

"You said you had the deed to prove it, but then you said you sold the property. If you sold it, you would've signed the deed over. If it's still in your name, legally, you still own the property."

Mrs. Howell and Ginger smiled in amusement, but Mr. Howell and Mr. Friedman thought in silence for a few seconds.

"Someone please remind me to call my lawyer when we get home," Mr. Friedman said.

***

That afternoon, Gilligan went to the girls' room and knocked on the door.

"Come in," Ginger said from inside. Gilligan opened the door and walked inside. Ginger was standing by her bed, studying the dresses that she had laid out. She smiled at Gilligan when he walked in.

"Oh hi, Gilligan," she said.

"Hey, Ginger," he said. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to pick out a dress to wear when we get off the boat. Mary Ann's up on deck."

"Oh, I know," Gilligan said nervously. He hesitated slightly. "Ginger, you're a girl, right?" Ginger raised her eyebrows and looked at him.

"Thank you for noticing," she said.

"Can I ask you something?" he asked. Ginger smiled knowingly.

"Let me guess," she said. "You have certain feelings for a certain girl, but you don't know how to tell her." Gilligan's eyes went wide.

"How'd you know?" he asked.

"A little birdie told me. Look, just tell Mary Ann how you feel. She'll understand."

"How'd you know it was Mary Ann?"

"Well I can't imagine it's Mrs. Howell," Ginger said. "And it's obviously not me."

"Oh, I didn't mean anything by that, Ginger. I know you're a girl."

"Thanks."

"I'm gonna go."

"Yeah." Ginger smiled as she watched him leave.

A moment later, there was another knock on the door, and the Professor walked in. Ginger smiled at him.

"Hi, Professor," she said.

"Hello," he said. "Unpacking?"

"Picking out a dress for our grand arrival. I want to look good."

'Oh, I hardly think you have to worry about that." Ginger gave a little laugh. Was she blushing? Since when did Ginger Grant blush?

"Professor..." she said.

"Yes?"

She hesitated. Before she could answer, Gilligan's voice interrupted, calling down the steps: "Ship!"

The call was followed by the sound of Gilligan falling down the stairs. Ginger and the Professor hurried out of the room, into the small hallway. Gilligan was at the bottom of the stairs, trying excitedly to get himself up. They walked over and helped him up.

"What did you say about a ship, Gilligan?" Professor asked.

"Shipper saw a skip," Gilligan stumbled. "I mean, Skipper saw a ship! Come on!"

All three of them were smiling as Gilligan led them back up the steps. Everyone else was gathered around the wheel of the boat, with Skipper holding the radio. Everyone seemed to be trying to talk to him.

"Now everyone calm down!" Skipper yelled. "I'm trying to call them if we can just get some quiet!"

Professor looked through the front glass and saw a large Navy ship on the horizon ahead of them. Everyone fell silent and Skipper spoke into the radio.

"Mayday, mayday," he said. "This is the _Mary Jane._ Is anyone listening?"

There was a moment of silence. Ginger gripped Professor's arm nervously. Mary Ann realized she was holding her breath, and next to her, Gilligan was wringing his hat in his hands.

"We're listening, _Mary Jane,"_ the response came in a young, male voice. "This is the _U.S.S. Schwartz._ You're a little far out, aren't you?"

There were cheers and squeals of delight from everyone in the room. Skipper quieted them down, but he had a huge grin on his face, just like everybody else.

"You have no idea," he said. "This is Captain Jonas Grumby of the _S.S. Minnow._ We've been on an uncharted island for four years, and we sure would appreciate some help getting home."

There was another moment of silence. The sailor was probably sitting there shaking his head in disbelief.

"Roger that, _Mary Jane,"_ he said. "Sit tight. We're headed your way."

"Thank you!"

Cheers and celebration erupted again. Ginger wrapped her arms around the Professor's neck, her clothes the last thing on her mind. Mary Ann kissed Gilligan's cheek, making him blush. (He still hadn't talked to her like Ginger had said.) Mr. Howell kissed Mrs. Howell like he hadn't in years, then cleared his throat in embarrassment as she smiled lovingly at him. Mr. Friedman opened his arms to the Skipper, who shook his head.

"No, thank you," he said. He held out his hand with a smile, and Mr. Friedman shook it respectfully.

"Thurston!" Mrs. Howell said. "We must change immediately. We're still in our Luncheon clothes. What does one wear to be rescued?"

"By the Navy?" Mr. Howell said cheerfully. "Blue, of course."

"Oh, yes, of course. How silly of me." They left to go back to their room, still smiling.

* * *

Please review!


	4. The USS Schwartz

Thank you for all the wonderful reviews I've gotten so far.

A very short chapter here. Sorry.

Disclaimer: I do not own _Gilligan's Island._ Sherwood Schwartz does.

* * *

That night, the group dined with the sailors aboard the _U.S.S. Schwartz_, in the crowded mess hall. Even after the plates were empty, they kept chatting happily, enjoying each other's company while they still could. Even though nobody mentioned it, they all knew that they would be parting ways soon.

A sailor came up to the table and stood in front of them with a smile.

"Ladies and a gentlemen, the Captain wanted me to let you know that we'll be arriving in Hawaii in approximately twelve hours."

The news was met with a happy chorus of Thank you's, and the sailor left.

"Now, then," Mr. Howell said. "We'll arrive in Hawaii, and you will all stay with us at the Howell Resort." The group responded happily once again, and after they fell silent, Mary Ann stood up.

"Well I think I'm gonna go to bed," she said.

"I'll walk you, Mary Ann," Gilligan said, standing up. "I'm kind of tired, too."

"Okay. Good night, everybody." Everyone bid them good night, and Mrs. Howell watched them with a smile as they left.

"I can't believe we're almost home," Mary Ann said.

"I can't believe I haven't messed it up yet," Gilligan said cheerfully. Mary Ann laughed a little, but didn't say anything. The two of them fell into silence as they walked. Gilligan knew this was his chance- maybe his last one.

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

Mary Ann stopped and opened the door to her and Ginger's room.

"Well," Mary Ann said, stepping into the room. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Yeah," Gilligan said. Mary Ann smiled and started closing the door. "Mary Ann?"

She opened the door and looked at him.

"Yes?" she said. He tried to think. What was he going to say?

"Sweet dreams," he said with a smile. She smiled sweetly at him.

"Sweet dreams, Gilligan," she said. She shut the door.

Gilligan walked away, disappointed with himself. He took off his hat and hit himself on the head with it.

***

The Professor was standing on deck, leaning on the railing and looking at the stars. The calm of the night sky had always helped him to focus on his more difficult problems. This particular problem was one of the most difficult he'd encountered- it was a woman. A particular woman that he'd come to know very well.

"Hi, Professor," she said.

"Ginger," he said, a little surprised.

"Am I interrupting?"

"Not at all. I was just...thinking."

"About?"

_You,_ he thought. But he couldn't tell her that.

"Home," he said. An easy answered. She believed him, and smiled.

"I can't believe we're so close," she said. "I was starting to think we'd all grow old n that island."

Professor laughed and looked out onto the horizon. Ginger studied him. He was so handsome. He could be a movie star, if he wanted. But of course he didn't. He had a much different life.

Ginger looked way, over the railing and down at the water. Professor would never fall for a girl like her- not seriously. She was much too shallow and silly for someone like him. He needed someone smart and substantial- the exact opposite of Ginger Grant.

She had told herself this over and over. Why did she keep letting herself entertain those thoughts?

She stepped away from the railing.

"Good night, Professor," she said. He looked up in surprise. He had just had a perfect opportunity, and it had passed. Ginger was walking away.

"Good night," he said. He watched sadly as she walked away, then turned back to look at the stars again.

* * *

Please review! I haven't replied to many of them yet, but I do really appreciate them.


	5. Hello, Hawaii

Disclaimer: I do not own _Gilligan's Island. _It is the property of Sherwood Schwartz.

It'd be pretty awesome if I did, though.

* * *

When the _U.S.S. Schwartz_ arrived in Honolulu the next morning, there was a mob awaiting them. Hundreds of people had come out to witness the castaways' return.

"Wow, Skipper," Gilligan said. "They must really love the Navy."

"Gilligan," the Professor said. "I believe they're here for us."

Gilligan's eyes went wide. "Oh, wow," he said.

The police kept the crowd back as the castaways hurried to a limousine that Mr. Howell had waiting. They made their way through the streets of Honolulu to the Howell Resort. When they pulled up to the building, the entire staff was waiting in the lobby for their boss's return.

"Oh, Lovey, look at that," he said happily. "They missed me."

"Of course they did, darling," she said.

The castaways filed out of the limousine and into the lobby. The concierge stepped forward and happily shook Mr. Howell's hand.

"Welcome home, Mr. Howell," he said.

"Thank you, Patrick," he said. "It's good to be back. Get our bags, will you?"

"Of course."

"Good man."

***

Gilligan walked backwards through the sitting room of the suite, looking up at the ceiling. Seeing what was coming, Skipper grabbed his suitcase and pulled it out of the way so Gilligan could fall over the footstool instead.

"Gilligan, will you watch where you're going?" Skipper said in annoyance.

"Sorry, Skipper," Gilligan said, picking himself up off the floor. "This sure is a big room."

"Yes, it is."

"It sure was nice of the Howells to let us stay here."

"Yes, it was."

"I'm sure gonna miss them."

"Me, too."

"And Mary Ann," Gilligan said. "And the Professor, and Ginger. And you, Skipper."

The Skipper did a quick double take.

"Me?" he asked. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I know. I just didn't want you to feel left out."

Skipper felt he should be annoyed, but wasn't.

"Thanks, little buddy."

***

After an afternoon of shopping and pampering, Mrs. Howell took Ginger and Mary Ann back to her suite to enjoy their own little tea party.

"Thank you for everything, Mrs. Howell," Mary Ann said.

"It's my pleasure, darling," Mrs. Howell said. "You two look absolutely lovely."

"I'm going to miss you."

"So will I," Ginger said. "You've always been so kind."

"It's true," Mary Ann said sadly.

"Oh, I'll miss you, too," Mrs. Howell said, her voice beginning to break. "You girls have been like my own daughters."

"You've been like a second mother to me," Mary Ann said, beginning to cry.

"And a third mother to me," Ginger said, joining in with her own tears.

The three women broke into tears and sobs. The door of the suite opened and Mr. Howell and Mr. Friedman walked in. They looked at the women in surprise.

"At least they're not throwing things in the harbor," Mr. Friedman said. "Yet."

"Lovey," Mr. Howell said, hurrying to his wife's side. "Girls, what's the matter?"

"Nothing," Ginger said through her sobs.

"We're having a wonderful time," Mary Ann forced out.

"Obviously," Mr. Friedman said.

"Thurston," Mrs. Howell wailed. "I don't want to lose my girls."

"You know, legally, they're not exactly yours," Mr. Friedman said gently. This just made the women cry harder. Mr. Howell hit him on the arm and then put an arm around his wife's shoulders.

"What he _meant_ to say, Lovey," Mr. Howell said. "It that we're not losing them. They're just going home. We'll know exactly where they are."

"He's right," Ginger said, collecting herself a little. "I'll be in New York. That's not far from you."

"Exactly, and Mary Ann will come visit when she gets the chance."

"And you can come see me in Kansas," Mary Ann said.

"Right, and she can come visit," Mr. Howell repeated.

Mrs. Howell dried her eyes.

"You're right, Thurston," she said. "We're being silly."

"Well, problem solved," he said happily. "Ooh, sandwiches."

He reached for one, but Mrs. Howell slapped his hand away.

***

After dressing for dinner, Mary Ann walked into the sitting room of the girls' suite. Ginger sat on the couch, putting on her make-up, wearing a sexy black dress. She looked up at her younger friend. Mary Ann looked very pretty, wearing a little white dress that was perfect for her, very Mary Ann-ish.

"You look great," Ginger said. She finished her make-up, then stood up. "How do I look?"

"Like you're going to make every woman in there jealous," Mary Ann said. Just as she expected, Ginger gave a Cheshire-cat grin.

"Perfect," she said. "Let's go."

Down in the resort's dining room, the castaways (well, former castaways) were waiting, milling around the bottom of the staircase. Gilligan was fidgeting with the tie that Skipper had made him put on. He always hated dressing up.

Mary Ann appeared at the top of the staircase and began walking down. She was dressed up, made up and her hair was curled. She looked as pretty as Gilligan had ever seen her. His mouth fell open a little. The Skipper calming pushed it shut.

"Hi, Skipper," Mary Ann said. "Hi, Gilligan."

"Hello, Mary Ann," Skipper said. "You look lovely."

"Thank you."

"Where's Ginger?"

"She ran into a friend and stopped to talk. Are we the last to arrive?"

"No, the Howells haven't gotten here yet," Skipper said.

"Hi, Mary Ann," Gilligan finally managed to say.

"Hi, Gilligan," Mary Ann said.

"Gilligan, why don't you show Mary Ann to our table?" Skipper said knowingly.

"Okay, Skipper," Gilligan said. Mary Ann took hold of his arm and he led her to the table in the back where Mr. Friedman was already sitting. He stood up to greet them.

"Miss Mary Ann," he said happily. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?"

"Oh, are you having trouble with your eyes, Mr. Friedman?" Gilligan asked worriedly.

"Oh, no. It's a figure of speech, my boy."

"Oh..."

"I was just saying how lovely Mary Ann looks."

"Thank you, Mr. Friedman," Mary Ann said with a smile.

A few moments later, the Professor and the Skipper showed Ginger to the table and took their seats. The Howells were the last to arrive and complete the group.

***

"Wrongway Feldman!" Mr. Friedman repeated the name in amazement. "I haven't thought about him in _years._ He was on your little island?"

"Oh, we had a lot of visitors," Mary Ann said.

"What was the name of that painter?" Gilligan asked.

"Dubov," Mr. Howell said. "Alexandri Dubov."

"Yeah, him. He was there."

"The President of Euacuarico was exiled to our island," the Professor said.

"Erika Tiffany Smith stopped by, too," Ginger said, giving the Professor a sly smile.

"Good lord," Mr. Friedman said. "You should have charged them. You would have made a killing."

Mr. Howell hit the table in frustration.

"Why didn't I think of that?" he asked himself.

"Darling, don't think about it," Mrs. Howell said. "Come dance with me."

"Yes, of course, darling."

They both got up from their seats and he led her onto the dance floor. Ginger watched them with a smile.

The Professor saw Ginger looking at the dance floor. One dance wouldn't hurt, would it?

"Ginger," he said. She looked at him. "Would you like to dance?"

She smiled.

"Of course," she said. She got up, took his hand and led him away.

Mary Ann turned to Gilligan.

"Gilligan?" she asked carefully.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Do you want to dance?"

He choked on the bite he'd just taken.

"You wanna dance with _me?"_ he asked.

"Why not?"

"I can think of two reasons. They're both left feet, and they're both mine."

Mary Ann smiled patiently and got up from her chair. Gilligan smiled and got up, too, and followed her to the dance floor. Mr. Friedman watched them, then looked across the table at the Skipper.

"Captain-"

"No," Skipper said firmly.

"All right, then."

***

"Thurston, look," Mrs. Howell said, looking at Gilligan and Mary Ann self-consciously dancing together. "Isn't that darling?"

"Yes, the boy does seem to be making progress," Mr. Howell said. He winced as he saw Gilligan accidentally step on Mary Ann's foot. "Ooh. He'll have to work on that."

"Thurston, don't they remind you of someone?"

"I was a better dancer than that, Lovey."

"Of course you were, darling."

"Of course it helps when you have a good partner," he said with a smile. "Of course, I had the best."

"Oh, darling. You're such a romantic."

"Well, shh. Don't let it get out."

***

"Did you say that you were going to New York?" the Professor asked.

"Oh, I didn't tell you?" Ginger said excitedly. "I ran into a friend of mine, a producer. He has a shower started on Broadway, a modern version of _Romeo & Juliet,_ and he wants me to play Juliet."

"That's wonderful," Professor said with a smile.

"I know. I can't wait."

"I'm sure you'll be a fantastic Juliet."

"Remember, you promised to come see me," she said teasingly.

"I wouldn't miss it."

***

"Sorry," Gilligan said as he stepped on Mary Ann's foot again.

"It's all right," Mary Ann said.

She looked down at their feet, and he looked at her. After four years of seeing her every day, he didn't know when he would see her again after tonight and that scared him. Even if he could get up the nerve to talk to her, like Ginger said he should, what was the point?

"Mary Ann?" he said. She looked up at him. "You look really pretty."

She smiled.

"Thanks, Gilligan."

* * *

Please review!


	6. Phone Calls

Disclaimer: Sherwood Schwartz owns _Gilligan's Island._ I do not.

* * *

Three months later

"Thurston!" After searching an entire wing of the first floor of Howell Manor, Lovey simply gave up and called for her husband. It was hardly nine o'clock in the morning. Where could he be?

The answer came, very faintly: "In the kitchen, Lovey!"

Lovey turned in the general direction of his voice and quickly turned herself in a circle.

"Where is the kitchen, again, darling?" she called.

"The east wing!"

"East. Yes," she said to herself. She turned one way, then corrected herself and went the other way.

She found her husband alone in the kitchen. Ever since they'd arrived home and discovered the kitchen, they had both intended to explore it further, but this was the first time Lovey had actually returned.

"Darling, where is the staff?" she asked.

"I gave them the morning off, Lovey," he said cheerfully. "_I'm_ going to prepare breakfast this morning."

"Oh, how marvelous." Lovey picked something up from a plate. It seemed to be an burned, misshapen hunk of bread. "Thurston, what is this?"

"That's toast, Lovey," he said.

"It doesn't look like toast."

"Well I used a baguette. It's French toast."

Lovey smiled.

"Oh, yes, of course."

The phone rang and Lovey looked around for it. She found it by the door and picked it up.

"Hello?" she said happily. "This is she...Oh, hello, Marie, darling....It's Marie," she said to her husband.

"So I gathered," he said.

"How are you?" she asked Marie happily. When she heard the response, her face fell and her heart sunk. "When was this?...Well thank you for calling, darling."

Mrs. Howell hung up the phone and walked back to her husband's side.

"Thurston, it's about Frederick," she said.

"Is he coming to visit?" he asked.

"No, darling. He's gone."

Mr. Howell fell silent for a moment. Thinking he may have misunderstood her meaning, he asked hopefully, "Did they check the vault?"

***

That afternoon, Gilligan and the Skipper got off a train at a station in Winfield, Kansas.

"Skipper, how are we going to find out where Mary Ann is?" Gilligan asked.

Skipper looked at Gilligan in surprise, then sighed. He should know by now not to depend on Gilligan for the important details.

"Gilligan, didn't I ask you to call ahead and find out her address?" Skipper asked impatiently.

"Oh, yeah, that's right," Gilligan said sheepishly. "I forgot."

"Of course," Skipper said. He sighed. "Come on. Let's see if we can find a phone book."

They went to the ticket window, which was manned by a young blonde woman.

"Excuse me," Skipper said with a smile.

"Yes?" she said politely.

"Do you have a phonebook we could see, please?"

"Sure." She pulled one out and set it on the counter. "Might be easier to ask, though. I know pretty much everyone in town."

"Do you know Mary Ann?" Gilligan asked excitedly.

"Sure!" the girl said with a smile. "Everyone knows Mary Ann."

"Do you know where we could find her?" Skipper asked.

"William!" the girl called to a young man passing by. He looked over and she waved him up to the window. "These gents are looking for Mary Ann. You know where she is?"

"Yeah, she's down at the diner," he said. "It's right down the street. I can take you."

"Well, thanks," Skipper said. The three men said good-bye to the ticket girl (who William called Lisa) and began walking down the street.

"I'm Gilligan, and this is Skipper," Gilligan said.

"Oh, you're Mary Ann's friends from the island," William said.

"That's right," Skipper said.

"It's nice of you to come visit. We're all real glad to have her back."

"Are you a friend of Mary Ann's?"

"Oh, yeah. We grew up together." He pointed to the small diner and began walking up to the door. "This is it. Dillon's."

Inside, Mary Ann was cleaning up the tables from the lunch rush. William led Gilligan and the Skipper inside.

"Mary Ann," he said. "These guys were looking for you."

Mary Ann gave a huge, happy grin when she saw her friends.

"Skipper! Gilligan!" she exclaimed, putting down the dishes she'd been holding. She rushed over and gave them each a tight hug. "What are you doing here?"

"Well we came to visit," Skipper said. "I'm sorry we didn't call first." He gave Gilligan an aggravated look.

"Oh, that's fine. It's just good to see you."

"Hey, Mary Ann, why are you working here?" Gilligan asked. "What happened to your farm?"

"I'll tell you what happened!" the cook exclaimed, appearing in the window between the kitchen and the counter. "Matthew Dillon is a lying cheat! If he had three Aces, I'm Benjamin Franklin!"

"That's Uncle George," Mary Ann said calmly. She was used to his outburst by now.

"Nice to meet you!" Uncle George said politely.

"Come sit down," Mary Ann said. She led them to a clean table and they sat down. "Are you hungry?"

"We ate on the train," Gilligan said.

"Well, how about some desert?"

"That sounds good," Skipper said.

"Two slices of apple pie coming up."

"Thanks, Mary Ann," Gilligan said.

Mary Ann smiled and joined her aunt behind the counter, where William was sitting.

"Just pulled the pie out of the oven," Aunt Martha said. "Give it a few minutes to cool."

"Okay," Mary Ann said.

"Hey, Mary Ann," William said. "There's a new John Wayne movie down at the theater."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I was gonna go see it tonight. You wanna come with me?"

Mary Ann considered it for a minute, then smiled and shrugged.

"Why not?" she said.

"Okay," he said happily. "What time do you get off?"

Gilligan watched Mary Ann and William talk from his seat at his table. He was getting a sinking feeling that if he didn't speak up soon, it would be too late.

"Hey, Skipper," he said. "I'm gonna go talk to Mary Ann for a minute."

"Gilligan, she'll be right back," Skipper said.

"It's important."

Skipper's expression softened and he nodded understandingly.

"All right, Little Buddy," he said kindly.

The phone rang and Aunt Martha went into the kitchen to answer it. Gilligan walked up to the counter, a few seats away from William.

"Hey, Mary Ann," he said.

"The pie will be up in a few minutes," she said. "Just have to let it cool."

"Okay. Can I talk to you?"

"Sure." She leaned on the counter in front of him. "What's going on?"

"Mary Ann!" Aunt Martha called from the kitchen. "Phone for you!"

Mary Ann sighed and pulled away.

"Hold on just a minute, Gilligan."

"Yeah, okay," he said sadly.

Mary Ann went into the kitchen and took the phone from her aunt.

"Hello?" she said. "Oh, hi, Mrs. Howell! ...What kind of bad news?" she asked sadly.

***

That evening, during the last act of her performance, Ginger looked into the audience and saw the Professor watching her. After the curtain call, she rushed to get changed and leave, hoping he'd be waiting for her outside.

He was.

With a smile, she walked up behind him and greeted him quietly: "Hey, Stranger."

Professor turned and faced her with a smile.

"Ginger," he said happily. They shared a friendly hug.

"I'm so glad you made it," she said.

"I wouldn't have missed it."

"Have you eaten?" she asked. "I know a place nearby."

"That sounds great."

She led him to a tiny cafe that was empty, except for the two of them. After they'd settled into a cozy booth, she asked, "Did you enjoy the show?"

"Oh, yes," he said. "It was quite an...interesting interpretation." He could've gone into a full-blown academic analysis of the play and its relation to the original work, but he stopped himself and limited it to one comment: "You were wonderful."

"Oh!" Ginger said, surprised. She'd heard many comments about her performance but this was the first compliment. She blushed a little bit. "Thank you."

"Miss Grant?" One of the waiters appeared at the side of the table.

"Yes?" she asked.

"There's a phone call for you. A Mr. Howell. He says it's important."

"Okay. Thank you." She looked at the Professor. "Excuse me."

"Of course," he said.

Ginger followed the waiter to the bar, where the phone was waiting off the hook for her.

"Mr. Howell?" she said. "They told me it was important. Is something wrong?"

* * *

Please review!


	7. Frederick

Disclaimer: I do not own _Gilligan's Island._

* * *

After the funeral, the Howell home was filled with mourners. Mr. Howell ventured back into the kitchen, where all the servants were busy with drinks and hor d'oeuvres for the guests, and found Celia, the cook.

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked.

"_No,_" she said quickly. She put on a smile. "I mean...you just worry about your guests. We'll worry about the food."

She hurried him out.

The rest of the castaways were in the drawing room, gathered around Mrs. Howell. Gilligan was pulling uncomfortably on his tie.

"Gilligan," Skipper said impatiently. "Will you stop fidgeting with your tie?"

"Sorry, Skipper," he said. "I'm not used to being so dressed up."

"I think you look nice, Gilligan," Mary Ann said.

"Thanks, Mary Ann," he said with a smile.

"That was a lovely service, Mrs. Howell," Ginger said. She gave a small smile, but her eyes were still red from crying.

"Thank you, darling," Mrs. Howell said. Mr. Howell sat down next to her. "It is a shame that we had to make the arrangements, but Frederick didn't have any family."

"That's so sad," Mary Ann said.

"You wouldn't say that if you were related to him," Mr. Howell said jokingly.

"Thurston," Mrs. Howell chastised him.

"Oh, come, Lovey. Frederick was always the first to laugh at a joke. Especially one of his own." Mr. Howell laughed loudly. Several people turned and looked.

A man appeared out of the crowd and approached the group. He had slicked-back black hair and wore a dark gray silk suit.

"Thurston, old man," he said excitedly. "I haven't seen you in years."

"Four and a half," Gilligan said helpfully. The Professor's elbow suddenly jerked into Gilligan's side.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Gilligan," he said.

"That's okay, Professor." Gilligan rubbed his side and eyed the Professor suspiciously.

"This is Leonard Goldman," Mr. Howell said. "He's Frederick's attorney."

"Lovey," Mr. Goldman said with a smile. "As beautiful as always."

"Hello, Leonard," Mrs. Howell said. "These are our friends."

"Hello, Friends," he said. "Thurston, may I speak to you for a moment?"

"Yes, of course," Mr. Howell said. "Excuse me." He followed Mr. Goldman out of the room.

"You know, Mr. Howell has the right idea," the Professor said. "In many cultures, funerals are seen as celebrations of the deceased's life as well as a chance to mourn the death. In fact, in New Orleans, funerals are often accompanied by parades."

"Well then it's very fortunate that Frederick didn't live there," Mrs. Howell said. "He didn't care for parades at all. Although he did adore parties."

"Maybe he just didn't like walking," Gilligan said.

"Lovey!" A woman hurried up and gave Mrs. Howell a hug.

"Hello, Evelyn," Mrs. Howell said. "These are our friends from the island."

Evelyn looked at the group over her shoulder.

"Hello," she said casually. She turned away from them and the women were soon lost in their own conversation.

The castaways split apart, moving away to other parts of the room. Ginger found a small sofa in the corner and took a seat. The Professor hesitated for a few seconds, then sat down next to her.

"Hello," she said happily. They hadn't had a chance to talk since she'd arrived.

"Hello," he said.

"We haven't gotten a chance to talk about you," she said.

"What about me?"

"What have you been doing since we've been back?"

"Oh, I've gone back to teaching. I found a position at a university."

"That's wonderful," Ginger said.

"How have you been? Do you like living in New York?"

"Oh, yes. It's very exciting. Even if the play is terrible."

"Oh, it's not-"

"You don't have to be nice, Professor."

"Well, it does leave something to be desired, especially compared to the source material."

"I know." She leaned back against the sofa. "I should've read the script first. At first, I thought it was going to be my big comeback. And then I thought it would just be some good work until I could get back on my feet or I got another offer."

She fell silent, lost in her own thoughts. The Professor waited for a few seconds, then asked, "And?"

"Nothing. Not so much as a glance in my direction. Hollywood's forgotten me."

"Oh, I'm sure that's not true."

"Well, it's either that, or someone recognized me from our movie."

"Well I profess I don't know much about show business, Ginger, but I don't see how that could hurt your career. After all, we won Cannes."

Ginger laughed.

"You're very sweet, Professor. Thank you."

"My pleasure," he said with a smile.

***

The Skipper took a drink and disappeared from the crowds, into a small hallway off the main entrance. There he found two large, comfortable armchairs and let himself relax in one.

After a few minutes, the door opened and Mr. Howell came in, also carrying a drink.

"Oh, Captain. So this is where you disappeared to," Mr. Howell said.

"I hope you don't mind, Mr. Howell," Skipper said.

"Of course not. As long as you don't mind my joining you."

"Please."

Mr. Howell took a seat in the other armchair, next to the Skipper.

"No offense, Mr. Howell," Skipper said. "Everyone's very nice. I'm just not used to these high-society things."

"Yes, it can be rather exhausting at times."

"It seems Mr. Friedman had a lot of friends."

"Yes, it seems so. Of course, from what I've gathered, many of them haven't spoken to him since his little farming stint."

The Skipper did a small double take.

"Really?" he asked.

"Yes. The consensus is that he lost a few of his marbles."

"That's too bad," Skipper said sadly. "He was a good man."

"He was," Mr. Howell said firmly. "He really was."

Skipper couldn't help but be moved by Mr. Howell's obvious affection for his late friend. The two had had many differences and arguments over the years, but Howell had consistently proven himself to be have a heart of gold.

"Mr. Howell," Skipper said. "I know that over the years, we've had our differences and sometimes I've lost my temper and said things. I just want to say that I....well, I didn't mean _all_ of them. When it comes right down to it, I consider you a friend."

"Likewise, Captain," Mr. Howell said with a smile. He held up his drink. "A toast?"

"Sure."

"To Frederick."

"To Frederick," the Skipper agreed.

* * *

So that's all I have so far. I'll try to update soon. In the meantime, please review!


	8. Where There's A Will

I struggled with this chapter, and I'm not completely happy with it. But it's very important to the plot, and I hope you can enjoy it anyway.

Disclaimer: I am not Sherwood Schwartz. I do not own _Gilligan's Island.  
_

* * *

The next morning at the Howell mansion, Thurston came downstairs and found the living room filled with caterers, decorators, and the mansion staff, with his wife in the middle of the room, directing it all.

"Oh, good morning, darling," she said happily.

"Good morning, Lovey," he said. "What is all this?"

"I've invited Mary Ann and Ginger to lunch to meet some of the girls," Lovey said.

"Oh, how lovely."

"Yes, I thought so. Where are you off to today, Thurston?"

"Well, I'm meeting Leonard for lunch and he asked me to be at the reading of Frederick's Will."

"Why?" Lovey asked.

"Well, I assume that Frederick left us something."

"Oh, how sweet," Lovey said with a smile. "Frederick was always so generous."

"Well, don't get too excited, Lovey. Remember, he was also quite the practical joker."

"Gilligan," the Skipper said. "Stop packing for a minute. I want to talk to you."

"Okay, Skipper." He left his suitcase and joined the Skipper by his bed.

"Now, Gilligan, I'm your Big Buddy, right?"

"Sure," Gilligan said.

"And has your Big Buddy ever steered you wrong?"

"Only once. Remember, we took that left turn and sailed right into that big storm? Oh, that was a big one!"

"Never mind that!" Skipper exclaimed. "What I mean is, have I ever given you bad advice?"

"No."

"Then listen to me, Little Buddy," he said, laying a hand on Gilligan's shoulder. "I want you to go down to Mary Ann's room right now and talk to her."

"About what?"

"You know what," Skipper said impatiently. Gilligan's eyes went wide with panic.

"Right now?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Can't I do it later?"

"No, Gilligan, we're leaving tonight. There won't be a later. It has to be now."

"Skipper, I can't. What do I say?"

"Just speak from your heart, Gilligan," Skipper said. "Now quit stalling and _go_." He grabbed Gilligan's arm and walked him to the door. When they got to the doorway, Gilligan stopped.

"Skipper," he said.

"What is it?"

"I forgot where her room is."

"Room 1208, Gilligan. One floor down," he said, pointing downwards.

"1208," Gilligan repeated.

"Yes. Now go, and good luck." He pushed Gilligan out the door and shut it.

Thirty seconds later, there was a knock on the door. The Skipper opened it and found Gilligan still standing there.

"She wasn't home," Gilligan said.

"Gilligan!" Skipper slammed the door, leaving his Little Buddy in the hallway.

With no other ideas for escaping, Gilligan began the long walk to Mary Ann's room. He walked slowly. He had never done this before. He had no idea what to say, and neither did his heart. He could just open his mouth and see what came out, but that never seemed to end well for him.

He stood outside the girls' room for a full minute, trying to work up his courage. Finally, he knocked, as softly as he could. Maybe he would get lucky and they really wouldn't be there.

No such luck. Ginger opened the door, wearing a pretty purple dress.

"Hi, Gilligan," she said with a smile.

"Hey, Ginger," he said. "Why are you all dressed up?"

"Oh, Mrs. Howell invited Mary Ann and me to lunch with some of her friends."

"Oh. Well, is Mary Ann here? I have to talk to her."

"Talk to her?" Ginger said. She instantly knew what he meant, and her heart broke a little for him. She stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind her. "Gilligan, I don't think you want to talk to her about that."

"I know I don't, but the Skipper told me to."

"Oh, Gilligan," she said sadly. "How can I say this?"

"How about with words?"

"Well, Mary Ann called home last night and...I heard her talking to her boyfriend."

"Oh," Gilligan said, his face falling.

"I'm sorry," Ginger said. She wanted to give him a hug, but that would probably just send him into a panic.

"It's okay," Gilligan said. "I guess that's what I get for not speaking up, huh?"

The door opened behind Ginger and Mary Ann came out into the hallway. She was dressed for the lunch too, in a dark blue dress.

"Hi, Gilligan," she said happily.

"Hey, Mary Ann," he said as if everything were perfectly normal. "I just came over to...borrow some sugar."

"Sugar? Well, we don't have any sugar. We don't even have a kitchen."

"You either, huh? I guess I'll go ask the Professor."

"Good luck," she said.

The girls went downstairs to the lobby, and Gilligan walked back upstairs, defeated.

Mary Ann and Ginger were the last of Mrs. Howell's guests to arrive. The butler led them into the living room, where Mrs. Howell was sitting and enjoying appetizers with two of her friends. The three of them stood up when the two younger women entered the room. Mrs. Howell exchanged happy greetings and hugs with them, then introduced the other ladies.

"Girls, this is Evelyn Vandergraft and Susan Haverty," she said. "Ladies, this is Ginger Grant and Mary Ann Summers."

"Hello," Ginger said.

"Very nice to meet you," Mary Ann said.

Evelyn responded with a civil "Hello," and Susan with a much friendlier greeting. The five ladies took their seats, Mary Ann and Ginger to Mrs. Howell's right, Evelyn and Susan to her left.

"Thank you for having us, Mrs. Howell," Ginger said.

"Oh, I'm simply delighted that you could all come," Mrs. Howell said. "I'm sorry that it's just the five of us, but it was rather short notice."

"Mary Ann," Susan said. "Lovey tells us that you're from Kansas?" She said the state's name as though she'd never heard of it before and wasn't quite sure how to pronounce it.

"That's right," Mary Ann said. "Winfield."

"I've never heard of a town called Winfield," Evelyn said.

"Well, it's the county seat of Cowley County."

"Come again?"

"The county seat," Mary Ann said.

"Oh," Evelyn said.

"It's a charming little town," Ginger said.

"Yes, Thurston and I have been planning to visit, but we haven't had a chance," Mrs. Howell said. "What with the social season beginning and all."

"Ginger," Susan said. "I've heard you've returned to Broadway."

"Yes," Ginger said, hoping the topic wouldn't go any further than that.

"She's playing Juliet," Mary Ann said proudly.

"Yes, so I've read," Evelyn said. "The reviews seem to mention you a lot."

"Oh, pooh," Mrs. Howell said. "You can't believe everything the critics say. Thurston and I thought it was absolutely delightful."

"Really?"

"Really," Mrs. Howell said firmly.

"What kind of business is your husband in, Mrs. Vandergraft?" Mary Ann asked.

"Securities trading," Evelyn said.

"I'm...afraid I don't know what that means," Mary Ann said, embarrassed.

"It's very complicated financial business. It's hard to explain."

"Oh."

The women fell into silence.

The Howells butler appeared in the doorway. "Ladies," he said. "Lunch is served."

"Wonderful," Mrs. Howell said. "Thank you, Edward."

"Mrs. Howell," Mary Ann said. "Would you mind if I go freshen up real quick?"

"I think I could use a little freshening myself," Ginger said.

"Of course, darlings," Mrs. Howell said. "Do you remember where the powder room is?"

"Yes."

"We'll meet you in the dining room."

After fixing up their make-up in the bathroom, the girls went to join the other women in the dining room, but stopped in the hallway when they heard slightly raised voices.

"I just never thought I'd see Lovey Howell socializing with farm girls and show people," Evelyn was saying.

Ginger's mouth fell open in anger.

"For goodness sakes, Evelyn," Susan said. "It's not as if she's in the circus."

Ginger gave an angry nod, even though they couldn't see her.

"And they seem like perfectly nice young women," Susan said.

Mary Ann crossed her arms and nodded.

"I'm sure they are," Evelyn said. "But they're not..._our_ sort of people."

"Maybe not _your_ sort," Mrs. Howell said. Mary Ann and Ginger shared a small, triumphant smile. "If that's your attitude, perhaps you should leave."

"Perhaps I will."

"All right, then."

The girls heard a chair moving on the hardwood floor and, before they could move, Evelyn was standing in front of them, ready to leave.

"Very nice to meet you, Mrs. Vandergraft," Mary Ann said.

Evelyn gave a curt nod and walked away. The girls went into the dining room to join the other women.

Leonard and Mr. Howell went straight from their lunch at the country club to the offices of Goldman, Douglas & Finch. They found someone waiting for them there: a handsome man in his thirties, wearing an expensive suit and glasses. He stood up as the men approached, and held out his hand.

"Leonard Goldman?" the man asked.

"Yes," Leonard said, shaking his hand.

"My name is Darcy," he said, "Wilber J. Darcy. I'm here on behalf of the Friedman Corporation."

"Oh, yes. Lovely to meet you. This is Thurston Howell the Third. He was a friend of Mr. Friedman's."

"Yes, of course," Darcy said, shaking Mr. Howell's hand. "Nice to meet you."

"You, too," Mr. Howell said.

"Well I don't think we're expecting anyone else," Leonard said. "If you gentlemen will follow me."

He led them into his office, where Darcy and Mr. Howell took the two seats in front of the desk. Leonard took the Will out of the top drawer and sat down behind the desk. He took out his reading glasses and put them on.

"All right," he said. "Here we are. 'I, Frederick J. Friedman, being of sound mind and body,' so on and so forth..." He skimmed the document. "'To my dear friend, Thurston Howell the Third, I entrust my beloved boat the _Mary Jane_ and my home in Wayward, Oklahoma. To the residents of the aforementioned town, I leave a sum of one million dollars. The rest of my fortune and assets I leave to the Friedman Corporation to be dealt with as they see fit.'"

He put down the paper and looked up at the other two men. "That's it," he said.

"That's it?" Mr. Howell repeated. "May I see that?"

Leonard handed him the paper. Mr. Howell read it over carefully.

"'Wayward, Oklahoma,'" he read. "I've never even _heard_ of such a place."

"It's right between Arkansas and Texas," Darcy said.

"Oh, yes. Thank you."

"Mr. Darcy," Leonard said. "Why don't you make an appointment with my secretary to come back tomorrow, and we'll finalize everything then?"

"Yes, sir, I'll do that." Darcy stood up and shook hands with both of them. "Nice to meet you both. Enjoy Oklahoma, Mr. Howell."

"Yes. Thank you." The two older men watched as Darcy left.

"Either they're starting them younger these days," Leonard said. "Or we're getting older."

"Bite your tongue," Mr. Howell said, looking over the Will again. "What kind of property is it, exactly?" he asked cautiously.

Leonard took another document from the top drawer, a Deed.

"'A farmhouse, a barn, and one hundred acres of land,'" he read.

Mr. Howell laughed, although he wasn't amused at all. "No, no. That must be a mistake. Frederick was going to sell that."

"Yes, that's what he said. He called me the day after you got back and said that he wanted to sell it. Then a few days later, he called and said that he'd changed his mind. That's when we changed the Will."

"Darn it all," Mr. Howell said in frustration. "He got me one last time."

When Mr. Howell got home, the servants were cleaning up from lunch and the guests were gone. He stood in the front hall for a moment, trying to decide how to explain the whole thing to Lovey.

"Thurston, is that you?" she called from another room.

"Yes, Lovey," he said. "Where are you?"

"In the office, darling."

Thurston went upstairs and found his wife at the desk in his office, writing a letter. She spoke before he had a chance to.

"Thurston, the Vandergrafts aren't coming to the Cotillion this year," she said.

"Why not?"

"They're not invited."

"All right, then. Lovey-"

"You should have heard the way Evelyn talked about Ginger and Mary Ann," she said. "It was horrible."

"Lovey, I need to tell you something," he said impatiently.

"What is it, darling?"

"Well, I have good news and bad news."

"Oh, dear. What's the good news?"

"Frederick left us the _Mary Jane._"

"Oh, how sweet of him," Lovey said happily.

"Well, hold the applause. I haven't given you the bad news yet," Thurston said. "Do you remember that discussion we had about his buying a farm?"

"Yes, I believe I do."

"Well he left us that, too."

"A _farm?_ Now why would he do a silly thing like that?"

"I'm sure I don't know, Lovey. At any rate, we can move fast and put it on the market as soon as possible. We'll have to go inspect it first, of course."

"Oh, Thurston, what a wonderful idea. The girls and I were just talking earlier about all of us going away together. Where is it?"

"Oklahoma. But Lovey-"

"Well, it's not Paris, obviously, but I suppose it'll do. Oh, I'll have to work quickly. I do hope Gilligan and the Skipper haven't left yet."

She got up and hurried from the room, leaving her husband to wonder what had just happened.

* * *

Please review!


	9. Wayward

I hope everyone had a great holiday season!

Disclaimer: I am not Sherwood Schwartz. Trust me on this one.

* * *

It took six hours for Mr. Howell's private plane to fly the castaways into Hatbox Field Airport in Oklahoma, and two more for the limousine driver to find what his map claimed was the town of Wayward. The castaways rolled down the back windows and crowded around to look outside.

"There must be some mistake," Mr. Howell said. All he saw was a long gravel road surrounded by green fields and two rows of run-down wooden buildings.

"No, Mr. Howell," Gilligan said. "This is it."

"How do you know?"

"Because of the sign." Gilligan pointed to the side of the road, where a large wooden sign stood. It read: _Welcome to Wayward, OK. Population: 5._

"Oh, yes," Mr. Howell said, disappointed. "Of course."

On the other hand, and the other side of the car, Mary Ann was excited. She climbed out of the car and was followed by five of her friends. Mr. Howell stayed in his seat.

Mrs. Howell looked at her husband. "Thurston, aren't you coming?"

"No," he said.

"Oh come on, Mr. Howell," Ginger said. She looked around. "I think it looks kind of charming."

"Yes, it's very quaint," Mrs. Howell said cheerfully.

Mr. Howell grumbled under his breath as he got out of the car. "Yes, well. The sooner we take care of business, I suppose..."

Mary Ann walked onto the porch of the nearest building, Smith's General Store. She read the sign hanging on the door, then rejoined the group and reported: "The store clerk will be back in fifteen minutes."

"Hi there, folks."

The seven castaways turned to see a young woman coming down the road towards them. She certainly looked like a small-town farm girl. She was slightly older than Mary Ann, her hair was in two short, blonde braids, and she wore a simple white blouse, blue jeans, and black work boots. She seemed surprised to find seven strangers waiting in front of her store.

"Boy," Gilligan said. "Fifteen minutes is a lot shorter than it used to be."

"Can you help us?" the Professor asked the young woman.

"Certainly," she said. "Are you lost?"

"Hopelessly," Mr. Howell said.

"We need to find the City Clerk's office," the Professor said.

"You do have one?" Mr. Howell asked.

The woman raised an eyebrow, and then smiled sweetly. "Last I checked, yes, sir." She pointed down the road. "Number seven Main Street. Last building on the right."

"Thank you very much," the Professor said.

"You're welcome," she said. "Welcome to Wayward." She gave them a friendly smile and left them to go into the store.

Mr. Howell turned and saw the limousine driver holding the back door open and waiting for them.

"Thank you, Alfred," Mr. Howell said. "I think we can walk. But wait for us, won't you?"

"Yes, sir," Alfred said. He shut the door and stood guard beside the car.

"Good man." Mr. Howell took his wife's arm and they followed the rest of the group down the road.

There wasn't much inside number seven. A long counter split the room in two and there was a desk behind it. On the counter sat a small silver bell.

"It doesn't look like there's anybody here," Mary Ann said as the group filed in through the door.

"Yeah, but there's a bell," Gilligan said. He rang it once, then smiled and rang it again, and again, and again. _Ding, ding, ding._

"Gilligan!" Skipper yelled. "Will you stop that?"

"Sorry, Skipper." _Ding._

Finally, someone came in: the young blonde that had met them outside the general store.

"Oh, good," she said. "You found it." She walked behind the counter. "Can I help you?"

The Professor raised an eyebrow. "_You're _the City Clerk?"

"Yes, sir," she said. "Patti Smith, City Clerk. Nice to meet you."

"Charmed," Mr. Howell said. "I am Thurston Howell the third. This is my wife Lovey, and these are our friends."

"Hello, friends," Patti said.

"Hi," Gilligan said.

"I need to speak to you," Mr. Howell said "About a gentleman named Frederick Friedman."

"I know Mr. Friedman," Patti said. "He used to live here. Nice fellow."

"Yes, yes he was," Mr. Howell said sadly. "But, I'm sorry to tell you, he recently passed."

Patti's shoulders fell and she frowned. "Oh, no."

"Oh, yes," Mrs. Howell said.

"Yes," Mr. Howell said. "And he left his property here to us, you see. I have the Deed right here." He reached into his jacket, pulled the Deed out and held it out to her.

Patti didn't take it. In fact, she barely seemed to notice it. "Why didn't anyone tell us?" she asked sadly.

"Well, we would have," Mrs. Howell said. "But we didn't know about you."

"Well..." Patti thought for a second, then shrugged. "I suppose that's as good a reason as any." She took the Deed from Mr. Howell, unfolded it and studied it. She nodded. "I remember. He bought the Wilson place. It's right on the edge of town."

"Well, do you know someone who could take us there?" Ginger asked.

"I'll ask the Sheriff, if I can find him."

"Well there is another little matter," Mr. Howell said. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a check. "He also left a little something to the town."

Patti tried to take the check, but she couldn't. Mr. Howell held on with an iron grip.

"Thurston," Mrs. Howell said.

Patti gave a hard tug and finally pulled it out of his hand.

"I'm sorry," Mr. Howell said. "It's my reflexes."

Patti's eyes widened as she looked at the check.

"This says one million dollars!" she said.

"Yes, it is a nice, round little number, isn't it?" Mr. Howell said with a smile.

Patti nodded happily, then fell to the floor with a _thump._

Mr. Howell sighed. "What have I always said, Lovey? Some people just can't handle having money."

After she came around and recovered for a few minutes, Patti led the castaways down the road to number five Main Street: the Sheriff's office. Inside it held three small jail cells and two desks. At one of the desks was a young man. He wore dark jeans, boots, a black shirt, and had a gold Sheriff Star pinned to his shirt. He was leaning back in his chair with his feet up on the desk and his hat over his face.

Patti sighed wearily.

"This is our Sheriff," she said to the Skipper.

"I know how you feel," he said. He pointed to Gilligan. "This is my First Mate."

"Jimmy!" Patti called to the Sheriff. He didn't move. She sighed and walked over to him. She kicked back the back legs of the chair and all four legs fell to the floor with a _bang._ Jimmy stood up with a start and fixed his hat, revealing an obvious family resemblance to the woman next to him.

"I'm awake," he said. He stared at the castaways in confusion, and leaned over to whisper to Patti. "I am awake, right?"

"Yeah," Patti said.

"Okay." Jimmy smiled wide and tipped his hat to the group. "Howdy, folks."

"This is my brother James," Patti said. "Jimmy, this is Mr. and Mrs. Howell, and their friends. They were friends of Mr. Friedman."

"Oh, nice to meet you," Jimmy said. "How is Mr. Friedman?"

"Well," Mrs. Howell said. "I'm afraid that's the bad news. Mr. Friedman passed away recently."

Jimmy's face fell. "Oh, no."

"Oh, yes," Gilligan said with a nod.

"But look," Patti said. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the check Mr. Howell had given her. "Look what he left us."

Jimmy took the check and his eyes went wide as he read it.

"One million dollars!" he exclaimed.

"He left it to the town," Patti said. "Isn't that wonderful?"

"Boy is it!" he said. "Now we can repaint City Hall, and the schoolhouse."

"Jimmy, the schoolhouse burned down last year, remember?"

"Oh, yeah. Well, we can rebuild it. And fix the fire engine. And fix the roof on the library."

"_Please,_" Mr. Howell said impatiently. "We can finish the To-Do list later. We have other matters to attend to at the moment."

"That's right," Patti said. She took the check back from her brother. "I need you to take them out to Mr. Friedman's farm."

"Why me?" James asked.

"Because you have the truck," Patti said.

"You can drive the truck just as good as me."

Patti put a hand on her hip. "I'm older than you are," she said.

"By two minutes."

"I'm also the mayor, and your boss."

Jimmy opened his mouth, then closed it.

"I'll get the keys," he said.

Patti gave a short nod, satisfied that she had won. The Professor looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

"You're the mayor as well?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," she said, smiling proudly. "I won in a landslide."

"Two whole votes," Jimmy grumbled, returning with a ring of keys in his hand.

"Well, that's small-town politics for you," Mr. Howell said.

Jimmy gave a sarcastic little laugh and headed for the door. "Come on, Neighbors." The led the castaways out.

Left alone, Patti looked down at the check in her hand. _One million dollars_, it said, _payable to the town of Wayward, Oklahoma_. She looked upwards, hoping her old neighbor was up there, and she smiled.

"Thank you," she said.

* * *

Please review!


	10. Love and Elbow Grease

Well, hello, everybody. I have returned. I've had very limited internet access for the last year or so, and although I've been working on this story, I obviously haven't had a chance to update here. But that's changed, and I have four new chapters to post for you. Hopefully more will come soon.

Disclaimer: I do not own _Gilligan's Island_. It was the brainchild of the late, great Sherwood Shwartz. Rest in Peace, sir, and thank you for giving us these wonderful characters.

* * *

The rain began to fall as the castaways followed Jimmy on the drive to Mr. Friedman's farm. By the time they pulled up to the house, they were in a downpour. The castaways looked out the windows of the limousine. The house seemed to hardly be standing. The white paint had faded and chipped so much that it was hard to tell if it had been painted at all. A few of the front steps were missing, and the porch rail was broken in half.

"This must be a mistake," Mr. Howell said.

"I don't think it's that bad," Gilligan said.

"Sure," Skipper said. "Nothing a little elbow grease won't fix."

"Don't you think nails and paint would work better?"

Skipper sighed and didn't bother to respond.

Mary Ann looked out the other window at the field. It was horribly overgrown, but nothing a lot of work couldn't fix. Once she- or whoever- got all the weeds up, there could be good land under there.

Jimmy ran up onto the porch and waved at them.

Mr. Howell sighed. "It's now or never, I suppose," he said. "Come, Lovey."

The Howells led the way as the castaways ran through the rain and mud, over the broken steps, and onto the front porch.

Mrs. Howell looked down at her feet. "Oh, Thuston, my shoes!" she cried.

"Don't worry, Lovey," he said. "I'll buy you a new pair as soon as we return home. Will you let us in, James?"

"I'm working on it, Mr. Howell," Jimmy said. He had the key in the lock and was jiggling the key and pushing the door. Finally the door jerked open and he stumbled into the house. "Here we go," he said, holding the door open.

The castaways walked slowly into the living room. The wallpaper was peeling, the paint was chipping, and the roof was dripping. Everything was covered in dust and cobwebs.

"Lovey, I think I'm going to faint," Mr. Howell said with a hand to his chest.

Mrs. Howell looked around wearily. "Is the rest of the house like this?" she asked Jimmy.

"I don't know," Jimmy said. "I haven't been in here since Mr. Friedman left. It was a lot nicer when he was here."

"I should hope so," Mr. Howell said.

"Oh, I don't think it's all that bad," Ginger said.

"Sure," Mary Ann said. "It just needs a little love."

"Boy, it's no wonder this place is falling apart," Gilligan said. "If it was built with love and elbow grease."

"Well, it'll never sell in this condition," Mr. Howell said. "We'll have to hire somebody to fix everything. And I mean everything."

"Oh, Thurston," Mrs. Howell said sadly. "We can't just hire somebody."

"Well, not locally, obviously," he said with a laugh.

"No, Thurston," she said thoughtfully. "I think I'd like to stay and do it ourselves."

Everyone looked at her in surprise, including her husband. He gave a nervous chuckle and touched his wife's arm.

"Let's speak privately for a moment, shall we, darling?" he said. He led her away from the others. "'Do it ourselves,' Lovey?"

"Thurston, I just don't feel right turning Frederick's home over to a stranger," she said. "I want to stay here and watch over it."

"But darling, we don't know anything about fixing houses."

"Patti and me'll be happy to help," Jimmy said.

"Stop eavesdropping, boy!" Mr. Howell shouted, but Mrs. Howell smiled at the young man.

"Skipper and I'll help, too," Gilligan said.

"We will?" Skipper asked.

"Why not? We don't have anything else to do."

"Gilligan!"

"Well, we don't."

"Those fields will need some work," Mary Ann said to the Howells. "I'll be happy to help you with that."

"I might be able to help you with that, Mary Ann," the Professor said. "A colleague of mine shared some interesting agricultural theories with me that we might be able to apply here."

"I should've walked further," Mr. Howell said to himself.

"Oh, wonderful," Mrs. Howell said happily. "I'll call Francis in the morning. He's our decorator. He did Frederick's place in Palm Beach, too. It was absolutely darling."

"I'll be happy to stay and help you with the decorating, Mrs. Howell," Ginger said.

"Then it's all settled."

"It is?" Mr. Howell asked.

"We'll get started first thing in the morning."

"We will?"

"Gilligan, will you go get our bags out of the limousine?"

"I will?" he asked, glancing at the rain outside.

"Thank you, darling," she said with a smile.

"Sure."

Gilligan looked at the window and sighed before heading outside into the rain.

* * *

Please review!


	11. Wayward Community Playhouse

Disclaimer: _Gilligan's Island_ was created by Sherwood Schwartz, and is now owned by someone else who is not me.

* * *

The next morning dawned bright and sunny, with not a cloud in the sky.

Ginger and Mary Ann had taken a small guest bedroom for themselves. Like the rest of the house, the room was bare and dusty, with a creaky door and floor. Still, it had two beds, and while they were uncomfortable, they were miles better than the bamboo cots they'd had on the island.

Ginger heard Mary Ann get up at sunrise, as she always did. After trying desperately to get back to sleep for about half an hour, the actress gave up and got out of bed. It would sure be nice when she got back to New York and had her own room again.

As she got dressed, Ginger made a note to ask one of her New York friends to send more of her clothes. She had only packed for a week or so, and had no idea how long they would be staying now. She didn't have much to work with as far as make-up, either, but she managed to make herself presentable enough before she went downstairs.

As Ginger stepped off the stairs into the living room, Mary Ann was walking in from the kitchen.

"Good morning," the younger girl said cheerfully.

"Good morning," Ginger said. "Is anyone else awake?"

"No, it's just me. I was just outside taking a look at the fields and the barn."

"What do you think?"

"I think we have our work cut out for us."

The girls heard footsteps walking on the front porch, followed by a knock on the door.

"Who could that be, this early?" Ginger asked.

"Early?" Mary Ann repeated. "It's already seven o'clock."

Ginger rolled her eyes. "Farm girls," she muttered.

Mary Ann opened the front door and found Jimmy standing on the porch, carrying a loaded cardboard box. He smiled and nodded to her.

"Good morning, Miss Mary Ann," he said.

"Hi, Jimmy," she said.

"Morning, Miss Ginger."

"Morning, Jimmy," Ginger said. "What have you got there?"

"Well Patti and me figured you wouldn't have any food here, so I brought a few things for breakfast." He looked down into the box. "I've got some bread, and eggs, and milk and coffee."

Mary Ann smiled. "Oh, that's so sweet," she said. "Here, give it to me. I'll take it into the kitchen."

She took the box and carried it away. Jimmy walked inside and closed the door behind him.

"Miss Ginger-"

"I'm not your teacher, sweetie," she interrupted with a smile. "You can just call me Ginger."

"All right, Ginger," he said nervously. "Look. Miss Mary Ann, is she...spoken for?"

Ginger gave him a sympathetic smile. "I'm afraid so," she said.

Jimmy sighed. "The pretty ones always are, aren't they?" he said. He gave Ginger a small nod. "Thanks."

He headed for the kitchen, leaving Ginger to wonder just how insulted she should be.

"Oh, good morning, Ginger," the Professor said, coming down the stairs.

"Good morning, Professor," she said.

"Did I hear someone at the front door?"

"Oh, that was Jimmy. He brought us a few things for breakfast."

"That was nice of him."

"Good morning, Professor," Mary Ann said as she and Jimmy walked back into the room.

"Good morning, Mary Ann," the Professor said. "Hello, Jimmy."

"Hi, there," Jimmy said.

"I'm glad you're here," Professor said. "I must ask you for a favor. Mr. and Mrs. Howell sent their driver and limousine away last night, so we're without transportation. Would you be willing to give me a ride into town so I could pick up some things that we need?"

"Why, sure," Jimmy said. "My truck is right outside."

"I appreciate it."

"I'll come with you, Professor," Ginger said. "In case you need any help." She didn't say what she was really thinking: that it would give her something to do so she didn't feel completely useless.

"Why don't you go right now?" Mary Ann said. "I'll have breakfast ready when you get back."

"Will the store be open this early?" Professor asked.

"Sure," Jimmy said. "Patti's there now. She can get a tab set up for you, too."

"Wonderful," Professor said. "Let's not waste any more time."

Mary Ann and Ginger got to work writing up a list of what was needed for the house, the land, and the barn that quickly grew to a foot and a half in length.

"Boy," Jimmy said when he saw it. "It's a good thing I got a big truck."

The three of them took Jimmy's truck into town, with Ginger riding between the two men in the middle of the front seat. She was the happiest of them when they pulled up in front of Smith's General Store and the Professor helped her out.

"On the way back, _you_ can sit in the middle," she told him.

When they walked inside, they found Patti leaning on the counter, reading a book. She smiled and set it aside when she saw them. "Morning, folks. Have a good night?"

"I've had worse," Ginger said.

"Good," Patti said. "I guess. What can I help you with this morning?"

"We need a few things," Professor said. He took the list out of his shirt pocket.

"Like what?"

"Everything," Ginger said.

Patti looked at the long paper laying unfolded on the counter. "You're not kidding."

"Can you help us?" Professor asked.

"Sure," Patti said. She began reading the list. "I might have to order a few of these things from the next town, but it shouldn't take more than a few days to get 'em here."

"I told 'em we could start a tab for them," Jimmy said.

"I guess we can do that," Patti said. She smiled. "I suppose we can afford it now."

"Speaking of that, have you decided yet how you're going to use that money?" Professor asked.

"Sure," Patti said. "We've been making a list of our own. We have a few buildings that need fixing: City Hall, the schoolhouse, the firehouse, the library, the theater-"

Ginger's eyes lit up. "Did you say 'theater'?" she asked. "You have a theater here?"

"Sure, it's right down the road."

"May I see it? I just love old theaters."

"Sure," Patti said. She nodded towards her brother. "Jimmy can-"

"Jimmy can walk you down there," he finished for her.

Patti pulled a set of keys from under the counter and passed them to her brother. He headed for the door, mumbling to himself, "Jimmy do this, Jimmy do that."

"Jimmy crack corn and I don't care," Patti sang, gently teasing him.

Ginger smiled and took Jimmy's arm as they walked out. Patti looked back down at the list in front of her.

"All right, let's see here," she said. She grabbed a box and handed it to the Professor. He followed behind her as she began walking through the store, pulling items off the shelves and putting them into the box.

"Patti, may I inquire as to something that's been puzzling me?" Professor asked as his load got bigger.

Patti smiled at the formality of his question. "Sure," she said.

"The welcome sign lists the town's population as 5," he said. "But so far, we've only encountered you and your brother."

"Oh, yeah," she said. "We've been kinda lax on changing that thing."

It took the Professor a moment to understand her meaning. "Am I to understand that you and your brother are the only natives left in the town?"

"Yeah," she said. "Over the years, everyone just sort of moved on. Our folks were the last to go. They moved down to Florida around the time Mr. Friedman left."

"So why haven't you left?" Professor asked.

"Where would I go?" she asked. "This is my home."

The Professor had no answer to that, not one that she would accept. As a logical man, he could clearly see that the town was on its last legs, so to speak. However, it was even more clear to him that Patti was one of those proud people who would hold onto the life she knew until all hope was gone.

It was clear to him because they, the _Minnow_ survivors, were doing exactly the same thing. For four years, all they had thought of was returning to their old lives, yet here they were, in a nearly abandoned farm town that they knew nothing about, all because they couldn't stand to say good-bye.

The theater was on the opposite end of the road from the store. It was possibly the biggest building on the street, except for City Hall. The front had a small ticket booth with doors on either side, and above the doors was a long, engraved metal plate that read _Wayward Community Playhouse_. It reminded Ginger of the theaters she used to go to when she was a young girl.

"This place's been here as long as I can remember," Jimmy said as the walked up to the doors. "It says 'Playhouse,' but it used to show movies, too. There's a screen behind the stage."

He pulled the keys out of his pocket and took a moment to find the right one before unlocking the door. He held the door open for Ginger, and then followed her inside.

The wooden floor creaked under their feet as Ginger and Jimmy walked into the lobby. On either side of the room were stairs leading up to the balcony, with the rails falling apart and parts of the carpet torn up. Ginger looked up and saw an old chandelier hanging high above them at the top of the ceiling. It seemed like it might fall at any moment, but it still shined like a diamond in the sun. The whole lobby was run-down, dusty, and dim, but it was lovely, and there was still magic in the air.

Ginger walked across the lobby to a pair of large, dark wooden doors with old, rusted handles. She pulled one open and stepped into the back of the auditorium.

The floor of the auditorium was covered in worn, dark red carpet. Many of the chairs were broken, their upholstery ripped, or they were just gone. The size of the room was impressive, not huge, but certainly big enough for its purpose. Above Ginger's head was the balcony, and along the sides of the room were smaller private viewing boxes.

At the front of the room was the stage. Ginger walked down the aisle towards it. There were several boards missing, and the dark red curtain had been torn in several places.

Ginger walked to the side of the stage and up the steps, then walked carefully to the back of the stage and pulled the curtain aside. Like Jimmy had said, there was a large movie screen with a large tear near the top.

She turned back to face the room. She could imagine all the seats filled with people, watching a show and having the time of their lives.

"O Romeo, Romeo," she said dramatically. "Wherefore art thou Romeo?" She listened carefully. "Good acoustics."

"Yeah," Jimmy said from the front row. "You know, Patti did that play in middle school. They did all the school plays here."

"Really? Did she play Juliet?"

"Yeah, and Leann Robinski was Romeo."

"Leann?" Ginger asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah. It was a really small class."

Ginger looked around with a smile.

"Whatcha thinking?" Jimmy asked.

"I'm thinking I just found myself a project," Ginger said.

When Ginger and the Professor returned to the farm, they found Gilligan and the Skipper walking back to the house from the fields.

"Good morning, Skipper," Ginger said as she got out of the truck. "Hi, Gilligan."

"Good morning, Ginger," Skipper said. He pointed to the truck in confusion. "Where did you two get that truck?"

"The twins agreed to loan it to us while we're here, since we don't have any transportation of our own," Professor said.

"Well that was nice of them."

"It certainly was."

"We were just taking a look at the barn," Skipper said. "It looks like we've got our work cut out for us."

"You should see it," Gilligan said. "There are holes everywhere. The floor, the ceiling, the walls, everywhere."

"Well, we brought back some lumber," Professor said. "Patti's going to order some more for us from a store in the next town."

"Great," Skipper said. "Gilligan, why don't you get that wood off the truck and take it into the barn so we can get started right after breakfast?"

"Yes, sir," Gilligan said. He headed over to the truck.

"Skipper, have you seen Mr. Howell?" Ginger asked. "I want to talk to him about something."

"He's inside," Skipper said. "I think he's listening to the news."

"Great. Thanks." Ginger left them and went inside.

"Would you help me unload the truck, Skipper?" Professor asked.

"Sure, Professor," Skipper said.

He followed the Professor to the back of the truck and was almost knocked off his feet by a plank of wood to the back of his head.

Gilligan winced. "Sorry, Skipper."

"Are you all right?" Professor asked.

Skipper put a hand to the back of his head and sighed. "Why do I always set myself up for these things, Professor?" he cried. "Why?"

Ginger found Mr. Howell in the kitchen, listening to the radio as Mary Ann finished fixing breakfast.

"Hi, Ginger," Mary Ann said. "Good timing. Breakfast will be ready in just a minute."

"You were starting breakfast when we left," Ginger said. "What took you so long?"

"Gilligan offered to help."

Ginger nodded knowingly. "And you let him."

Mary Ann shrugged. "What can I say? I'm an optimist."

Ginger nodded towards Mr. Howell. "Is he in a good mood?" she asked.

"Howell Industries opened five points up this morning. What do you think?"

Ginger smiled. "Great." She sat down next to Mr. Howell at the small table. "Hi, Mr. Howell."

"Hello, Ginger," he said cheerfully. "How are you this morning?"

"I'm wonderful. I have something I'd like to talk to you about, if you have a moment."

"Well, I don't normally hear business propositions before breakfast," he said. "But I suppose I can make an exception."

"Mr. Howell," Ginger said. "The Professor and I just came from town, and Jimmy showed me the most darling little theater that they have. It only needs one thing, and do you know what that is?"

"No, but I imagine you're about to tell me."

"A generous benefactor to help get it back on its feet."

"No."

"No?" Ginger repeated, taken aback.

"No," Mr. Howell said. "Ginger, I came here to take care of Frederick's estate, and that's all. Now, the last thing I need is another project costing me money. Besides, Frederick already left them a very generous inheritance. I'm sorry, but my answer is no."

"But Mr. Howell," she said. "The twins have so many other things to take care of. The theater will be the last place to see any of that money, if it does at all. Now, they're both willing to help, and so is the Professor, so you won't have to pay for labor. And a theater can be the heart and soul of a small town like this. Imagine the good publicity."

She looked off into the distance, and held up her hand, outlining an invisible headline: "Thurston Howell the Third, Patron of the Arts, Revives Theater, Brings Life Back to Small Town."

Mr. Howell stared at the imaginary words. "A bit lengthy for a headline, isn't it?"

"Well, you get the idea," Ginger said. "What do you think, Mr. Howell?"

The millionaire touched his chin, thinking to himself. After a moment, he smiled. It was just impossible to say no to Ginger.

"All right, you've sold me," he said.

Ginger gave me a happy squeal.

"But I want regular reports, do you understand?" he said firmly. "I want to know everything that's happening, and I want to know where my money is going."

"Of course," Ginger nodded. She jumped out of her seat and hugged him tightly around his neck. "Thank you, Mr. Howell!"

"Goodness, girl, don't excite yourself. I'm only fixing the place. I'm not buying it for you."

Ginger and Mary Ann exchanged a small wink as Ginger left the room.

"Of course, I don't know what you're going to do with a theater in a town of two people," Mr. Howell said. "Punch and Judy, perhaps."

* * *

Please review!


	12. Pulling Weeds

Disclaimer: I do not own _Gilligan's Island_.

* * *

The next day was another beautiful one- sunny, clear, and warm. Especially warm. When Mary Ann stepped out of the house, she was reminded of summertime on the island.

Patti pulled up to the house just after breakfast. Mary Ann was on her way to the fields and stopped when she saw the truck.

"Morning, Patti," she said.

"Hi, Mary Ann," the blonde said, closing her door. She looked up at the sun. "It's gonna be a hot one."

"Feels like it already is."

The Skipper and Gilligan came out of the house and down the porch steps.

"Good morning, ladies," Skipper said.

"Morning, Skipper," Mary Ann said.

"Hi, Skipper," Patti said. "How are you this morning?"

"We're just fine," Skipper said. "How are you?"

"I'm fine. I brought some more wood for you to use. We found some in the back of the church this morning."

"Well, thank you. That's very nice of you."

"Sure," Patti said. "If y'all need anything, don't hesitate to ask. We're happy to help."

"Well, we appreciate it."

"Yeah," Gilligan said.

Skipper looked at Gilligan in annoyance. "Well, don't just stand there, Gilligan. Get the wood off the truck and take it to the barn."

"Yes, sir, Skipper," Gilligan said. He went to the back of the truck and pulled off a long plank. "Hey, Patti, don't you need this wood for something?"

"Oh, don't worry," she said. "That's not all of it. Jimmy took the rest of it to City Hall, and to the theater for Ginger to use."

"Oh, okay. Good." He lifted the board onto his shoulder and turned away. Patti and the Skipper both ducked as the board swung right over them.

Two hours later, Gilligan left the barn with Skipper's angry shouting following him. He walked towards the house and stopped when he saw Mary Ann. The brunette was sitting in the field, pulling things up from the dirt and, Gilligan noticed as he got closer, singing a Mosquitoes song that was stuck in her head. He joined in as he walked up to her.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he sang. "Yeah, yeah, yeah."

Mary Ann looked up at him with a smile. "Hi, Gilligan."

"Hi, Mary Ann," he said. "That's my favorite song."

"Really?"

"Yeah, it's the only one I can remember all the words to."

"Aren't you supposed to be helping Skipper in the barn?" she asked.

"I am," Gilligan said.

"How?"

"By helping someone else," he said. "What are you doing?"

"Pulling weeds," she said.

"Can I help?"

"Sure." After all, what harm could he do pulling things out of the ground? She pointed to the end of the row. "Why don't you start down there, and head this way, and we'll meet in the middle?"

"Okay." He took a few steps away, then stopped and looked back at Mary Ann. "How do I know what's a weed and what isn't?"

"From what I've seen, all we've got is weeds. Just pull everything."

"All right."

The two of them got to work, slowly moving closer to each other, singing together. When they ran out of Mosquitoes songs, they moved on to The Beatles. Halfway through "Twist and Shout," Mr. Howell found them. He was carrying a large bag on his shoulder.

"Here you are, Gilligan," he said. "What are you doing?"

"Pulling weeds," Gilligan said.

"So I see." He looked at the small piles of weeds scattered around the ground. "There are quite a few of them, aren't there?"

"Unfortunately," Mary Ann said.

"Well, Gilligan, I have a job for you."

"Is that okay, Mary Ann?" Gilligan asked.

"Oh, sure," she said. "I can manage."

"Good," Mr. Howell said. "Now- Stand up, Boy, when I'm talking to you." Gilligan stood up and wiped the dirt off his pants. "That's better. Now." He began taking things out of his bag and handing them to Gilligan. "I want you to take this compass and find where our property line is on this map, and mark it with this rope and these stakes. Now, any questions?"

"Just one, Mr. Howell," Gilligan said, looking over the small mountain of things in his arms. "What's a property line?"

"Well, that's where this property ends, and the neighbor's begins. If we have a neighbor, that is."

"Oh, okay."

"Now, off you go, my boy! Ta-ta, Mary Ann!" Mr. Howell gave Gilligan a few cheerful taps of his cane before walking away.

"I'll see you later, Mary Ann." Gilligan took a few steps before dropping half of his supplies.

Mary Ann smiled and stood up. She brushed the dirt off her jeans and helped Gilligan gather up his supplies.

"Do you need some help, Gilligan?" she asked.

"Well, I don't want wanna take you away from your weed-pulling."

"Oh, that's okay," Mary Ann said. "I could use a break. I'll just help you get started."

Gilligan read the map and the compass as Mary Ann followed him, carrying the rope and stakes. When they found the Eastern end of the property, they planted the first stake and started walking south. Mary Ann pulled the rope behind them and tied it off with a stake every few hundred yards.

They found the Southern boundary just a few yards from a wooded area that they hadn't noticed before. Mary Ann placed another stake and tied it off.

"I suppose I should get back to pulling weeds," she said. She leaned on the stake and looked at the woods. "Gee, I wonder what's back there."

Gilligan looked at the trees curiously. "I don't know," he said.

"Should we go see?" she asked with a smile.

"I don't know," Gilligan said nervously.

"Well I don't think a little exploring could hurt anything," Mary Ann said.

"Well..."

She shrugged. "All right. Stay here if you like."

Mary Ann walked off and disappeared into the trees. Gilligan looked at the rope and stakes, then looked at the woods, and then followed her.

Mary Ann looked over her shoulder and smiled when she saw Gilligan following her. They walked down a narrow path for a little while before she stopped.

"Do you hear that?" she asked.

Gilligan listened carefully. "Yeah. It sounds like water."

"It sounds like it's coming from that way," she said, pointing to her right. "Come on."

Gilligan followed Mary Ann as she left the path and walked through the trees. The sound of the water got louder as they got closer, until they broke through some low-hanging branches to discover a strong, clear stream, narrow and deep, running right through the woods.

"Oh, Gilligan," Mary Ann said, walking towards the edge of the water. "Isn't it beautiful?"

"Yeah," Gilligan said. "It kinda reminds me of the lagoon on the island. Except it's smaller. And it's on a farm."

Mary Ann smiled as she climbed onto a large rock to get a better look.

"Hey, I wonder if I could skip a rock to the other side," Gilligan said.

He looked for a good skipping stone and found a perfect one in the shadow of Mary Ann's rock. He carried it back to the edge of the water, where he tripped on his untied shoelace and fell into the water.

"Oh, Gilligan!" Mary Ann cried. Gilligan reappeared on the surface of the water. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I think so," he said. "Can you help me out?"

"Here, take my hand." Mary Ann leaned out and reached for him.

Gilligan grabbed her hand and pulled, and Mary Ann fell off the rock and into the water.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Mary Ann," he said. "Are you okay?"

Mary Ann smiled. "Oh, I'm fine, Gilligan." She splashed water on him.

He smiled and splashed her back.

Mary Ann gasped. "You can't splash a lady!" She splashed him again.

"Oh, yeah? Watch me." He did it again.

With that, they became involved in a full-on splash war, and forgot all about barns, weeds, and property lines.

* * *

Please review!


	13. Francis Carlisle and His Suitcases

Disclaimer: I still do not own _Gilligan's Island_. If this changes in the future, believe me, I'll let you know.

* * *

The next day was gray and overcast. The sky was filled with dark clouds, the kind that threatened rain but never got around to actually producing it.

As Jimmy walked down Main Street that morning, he was surprised to see a man standing in front of the train station. He was surprised to see anyone who wasn't his sister or one of their new friends, but this man was a total stranger, and a strange-looking stranger, at that. He was wearing a black suit with a light green vest and a dark green overcoat. He held a dark wooden cane in his hand, had a small pile of suitcases at his side, and he looked very upset about whatever circumstances had led him to Wayward, Oklahoma.

Jimmy put on his friendliest smile and walked up to the newcomer. "Hey, there, friend."

The man looked Jimmy over. "Hello...friend," he said in a deep voice with a haughty accent.

"Did you come in on the train?"

The man looked over his shoulder at the door of the train station, then back at Jimmy. "No. I flew in on my broomstick."

Jimmy thought for a few seconds, and then laughed. "You're kidding with me."

The man smiled stiffly. "Yes."

"I only asked on account of because the train doesn't really stop here anymore," Jimmy said. "We don't get a lot of visitors coming through Wayward these days."

The visitor looked around. "I can't imagine why."

"I blame Tulsa. It's tough competition."

"Not that this hasn't been absolutely delightful, but could you please direct me towards the..." His eyes fell onto the Sheriff's star on the young man's chest. "Oh, dear. You're it."

"If by 'it,' you mean Sheriff, then yes, I am," he said proudly. He held out his hand. "Jimmy Smith. Pleased to meet you."

The newcomer shook Jimmy's hand uncertainly. "Francis Carlisle. Charmed, I'm sure. I've been called here by Mr. Thurston Howell the Third."

"Oh, you're a friend of the Howells." Jimmy was surprised that he hadn't guessed that sooner.

"Yes," Mr. Carlisle said. "Do you know where I might find them?"

"Sure. They're staying up at Mr. Friedman's farm. I can take you there."

"Splendid."

Jimmy walked away, headed for his office. After a few seconds, he looked back and saw that Mr. Carlisle was still standing there next to his luggage.

"Well, come on," Jimmy said. "And don't forget your suitcases."

Despite their new circumstances, many of the castaways' habits hadn't changed. Mary Ann was still the one in charge of all their meals, Gilligan was still...well, Gilligan, and Mr. and Mrs. Howell were still the last ones to emerge from their small bedroom every morning and join the others at the breakfast table.

"Good morning, everybody," Mrs. Howell said happily as they walked into the kitchen.

"Good morning, Mrs. Howell," Mary Ann said from in front of the stove, where she was flipping pancakes.

Mr. Howell pulled a chair out for his wife, who quickly wiped off the seat before sitting down. Somehow, there always seemed to be a fresh layer of dust on it every morning.

After he sat down next to his wife, Mr. Howell looked around the table. "It seems that one of our tribe has escaped," he said. "Where is Ginger?"

"She had an early breakfast, and went into town to work at the theater," the Professor said.

"Oh, good," Mr. Howell said with a smile. "I'm getting my money's worth."

Outside, Jimmy was pulling up in the driveway with Mr. Carlisle in his passenger seat.

"Here we are," the young Sheriff said.

Mr. Carlisle stared through the windshield at the house. "Is this a joke?"

"No, sir." Jimmy got out of the truck. "Are you coming?"

"I'm considering it," he said. "Against my better judgment."

"Well, let's go, then. We're burning daylight." He shut his door and looked in through the open window. "Don't forget your suitcases."

Jimmy walked up the porch steps to the front door, and rang the doorbell. He took off his hat as he waited, and after a moment, Mary Ann opened the door.

"Good morning, Jimmy," she said.

Jimmy smiled. "Good morning, Miss Mary Ann," he said. "How are you today?"

"Good," she said. She looked over at the truck. "Who's that?"

"That's Mr. Carlisle," Jimmy said. "He's a friend of the Howells."

Mary Ann smiled and waved to the visitor, and got only a brief wave back.

"Why is he sitting in the truck?"

"I don't think he likes it here," Jimmy said. "I don't know why."

"Well, come on in," Mary Ann said. "I'm sure Mr. Howell can talk to him."

The Howells were the only ones left at the table when Mary Ann and Jimmy walked into the kitchen. Mrs. Howell smiled at the young man.

"Oh, hello, James," she said. "What a nice surprise."

"Morning, Mrs. Howell," Jimmy said with a nod. "Mr. Howell."

"Good morning, James," Mr. Howell said. "I'm afraid you're a tad too late to join us for breakfast."

"Oh, that's all right. I just came to drop off your friend, Mr. Carlisle."

"Oh, darling," Mrs. Howell said happily. "Francis is here!"

"Yeah, but he won't get out of the truck," Jimmy said.

"Well, of course not," Mr. Howell said. "The poor man's just had a terrible fright."

"Come, Thurston," Mrs. Howell said, standing up from the table. "We mustn't keep him waiting."

"You're quite right, Lovey," he said, following his wife. "If he's out there too long, the weeds will swallow him up."

Mary Ann and Jimmy followed the Howells into the living room, where Mrs. Howell opened the front door and the four of them came face-to-face with Francis Carlisle, who was standing on the front porch.

"Let's not waste time," Mr. Carlisle said. "The sooner we finish this little project, the sooner I can leave."

"Hello, Francis," Mrs. Howell said happily. "How wonderful of you to come. Come inside, darling."

"If I must," Mr. Carlisle said, walking inside. "Hello, Thurston."

"Hello, Francis," Mr. Howell said. "I can see that you've already met James, but I don't believe you've met our friend Mary Ann."

"Hello," Mr. Carlisle said, giving Mary Ann a polite nod.

"Hi," Mary Ann said cheerfully.

"Didn't you bring any bags, Francis?" Mrs. Howell asked.

"Yes," he said. "They're outside."

"Well, we'll get someone to bring them in for you," Mr. Howell said. "Gilligan!"

"Oh, Thurston, don't be ridiculous," Mrs. Howell said. "He can't possibly stay here."

"Oh, yes. We are a little cramped, aren't we?"

"James, is there someplace in town where Mr. Carlisle might stay?"

"Sure," Jimmy said. "We'll clean out a room for him at the inn."

"The inn?" Mr. Howell repeated, annoyed. "Why didn't you tell us about that when we first arrived?"

"You didn't ask."

"James, darling," Mrs. Howell said. "Can you please take Mr. Carlisle's bags to the inn and get him a room?"

"Yes, ma'am," Jimmy said with a nod.

"Thank you. Francis, you stay here, and we'll get started right away."

It was the middle of the afternoon when Patti wandered onto the porch of the general store. She looked casually up and down Main Street, and her gaze fell on her brother's truck parked outside the Wayward Inn.

Patti put the 15 Minutes sign on the store door and walked down Main Street.

She hadn't been in the old mansion in months, but it didn't matter. She had spent enough time there in her life that she could've found her way around blindfolded. She walked through the entrance hall to the bottom of the impressive, winding staircase. She looked up and called for her brother, her voice echoing through the house: "Jimmy!"

Jimmy leaned over the banister on the third floor and looked down at his sister. "Hey," he said.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Cleaning out a room," he said. "We have a guest."

"Is grandma coming?" Patti asked.

"No. Mr. Carlisle."

Before Patti could ask who Mr. Carlisle was, Jimmy had walked away. She sighed and walked upstairs. Her brother was in room 302, struggling to sweep under the large bed.

"Who is Mr. Carlisle?" Patti asked from the doorway.

"A friend of Mr. and Mrs. Howell," he said. "He's a decorator."

"Oh."

"He's here to work on Mr. Friedman's house."

"Well I didn't think he was on vacation," she said. "How long is he staying?"

"As long as it takes to fix up the house, I guess," Jimmy said. He smiled. "So it'll probably be a while."

"Yeah, it's gonna take a lot of work to get that place ready to sell."

"How do you know they're gonna sell it?"

"Mr. Howell's a businessman," Patti said. "He's going to do what makes him money."

"I don't know, I think we're growing on 'em," Jimmy said. "Like with Mr. Friedman. And the Howells have houses all over the place. Why shouldn't they have one here?"

"The same reason Mr. Friedman left: because they're just not built to live in a place like this."

Jimmy was still smiling, unfazed. "They weren't built to live on a desert island, either. You never know."

"Maybe. I just don't want you to get your hopes up, little brother." She smiled. "Have fun cleaning," she said, before she left to return to her store.

* * *

Well, that's all I have to post at the moment. Please review. I love constructive criticism, and could really use some.


	14. The Double Gilligan

Nope, I still don't own _Gilligan's Island._

* * *

Two Months Later

The tiny farmhouse had changed a lot in two months. A fresh coat of paint and a fixed front porch seemed to reinvigorate the outside, even though the roof had yet to be completely repaired. Inside, everything in sight had been cleaned, repaired, or replaced, and the rooms all furnished with classic American furniture that Mrs. Howell had hand-picked and had flown in from Paris. Mr. Friedman's humble abode was now the fanciest farmhouse in Oklahoma.

The former castaways had formed a nice routine. Everyone had their job: Mary Ann took care of the fields, Mrs. Howell and Mr. Carlisle busied themselves with redecorating the house, Ginger spent her days working at the theater, and everybody else was enlisted to help wherever they were needed.

On one beautiful but hot day, Gilligan came down from working on the roof with the Skipper, carrying a large, empty bottle, and found Mary Ann in the kitchen, stirring a bowl of batter.

"Hi, Mary Ann," he said.

"Oh, hi, Gilligan," she said. "How's it going up there?"

"It's all right. Skipper wanted me to come get us some water." He looked at the bowl she was stirring. "What are you making?"

"It's a birthday cake for Jimmy and Patti," she said. "I'm gonna surprise them with it at the party tonight."

Gilligan grinned. "Oh, boy. What kind is it? Coconut cream?"

"_Please_. Chocolate."

"Oh. Well, that's good, too. And if you need someone to lick the bowl when you're done, let me know, huh?"

Mary Ann laughed. "I will."

There was a knock on the kitchen door and Jimmy stuck his head in.

"Morning, folks," he said. "Can I come in?"

"Sure," Gilligan said.

He walked inside, leaving the door open.

"Happy birthday," Mary Ann said.

"Thanks, Miss Mary Ann," he said. "What are you making?"

"Oh." Mary Ann stopped stirring. "Um, nothing."

"Certainly not a birthday cake," Gilligan said.

"Oh, too bad," Jimmy said. "Well, y'all are coming to our party tonight, right?"

"Oh, sure," Mary Ann said. "We're all looking forward to it."

"Us, too. It's gonna be nice to celebrate our birthday with people instead of chickens." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded-up newspaper. "Anyway, I came to pick up Ginger, and I brought this."

"A _New York Times_?" Gilligan said.

"Yeah, Patti brought it back when she went to Tulsa yesterday."

"Oh, that's great," Mary Ann said. "I bet Mr. Howell will be glad to see it." She set her bowl down on the table. "I'll go see if Ginger's up."

"Thanks." Jimmy watched Mary Ann as she left. When he was sure she was gone, he smiled and pulled the spoon out of the bowl of batter.

"Don't eat that!" Mary Ann called from...somewhere. Jimmy dropped the spoon back in the bowl, startled.

Gilligan smiled. "Serves you right. I have first dibs on licking the bowl."

Jimmy sat down at the kitchen table and tried not to look at the bowl of batter. Gilligan went to the sink and began getting water for himself and Skipper. The back door opened and the Professor walked in.

"Good morning, gentlemen," he said.

"Morning, Professor," Jimmy said. "I'm just waiting for Ginger, so we can go work at the theater."

"Do you mean Ginger still hasn't come down from her room?" the Professor asked.

"No, Mary Ann just went to get her," Gilligan said. He wandered back to the table. "You know, Ginger's sure been acting funny lately. Even for Ginger."

The Professor leaned on the table across from the younger men. "Between the three of us," he said. "I'm concerned about Ginger. Ever since her understudy in the play became her permanent replacement, she's exhibited a loss of appetite, a change in her sleeping habits, and a loss of interest in endeavors that she previously enjoyed, such as working at the theater. Now, these may be symptoms of a temporary melancholia, but I'm afraid that they may worsen into a severe depression."

Jimmy stared at him blankly for a second, and then turned to Gilligan.

"She's sad because she lost her job, and he's afraid it might get worse," Gilligan translated for him.

"Oh," Jimmy said, as the Professor simply stared at them in amazement. "Hey, I have something that might cheer her up." Jimmy began looking through the newspaper. "I think Patti said there's an article in here about that play."

"You think that'll help?" Gilligan asked.

"Well, it depends on what the article says," Professor said. "One mustn't underestimate the cathartic benefit of schadenfreude."

Jimmy looked to Gilligan for another translation, but all Gilligan could do was shrug.

"Here it is," Jimmy said, folding the paper to the correct page. The three men leaned in to read the article together.

"Look, they mention Ginger," Gilligan said.

"Yes, so they do," the Professor said.

"What's that word?" Jimmy asked, pointing.

"'Melodramatic.'"

"What does it mean?" Gilligan asked.

"It means that this is not going to help Ginger," Professor said. "In fact, I don't think we should let her see it at all."

Two sets of footsteps came down the stairs in the next room. The Professor took the paper and hid it behind his back. The three men turned to watch as Mary Ann and Ginger walked into the kitchen.

"Hi, Jimmy," Ginger said. "I'm sorry to keep you waiting. I guess I overslept a little."

"Oh, that's all right," Jimmy said.

Ginger caught sight of the Professor, and a small smile crossed her face. She recognized a man with a secret when she saw one, and there were two things Ginger couldn't resist: men and secrets.

She took a few steps over to him. "Good morning, Professor."

"Good morning, Ginger," he said. "You seem to be in a good mood today."

"I am," she said. "What are you hiding?"

"Hiding? I'm not hiding anything."

"No, you're just standing casually in the middle of the kitchen with your hands behind your back."

"Yes," Professor said. "It's a posture exercise."

"Ohh," Ginger said, unconvinced. She reached around the Professor's side, trying to grab the paper from him. He quickly turned away, and she grabbed it from the other side.

"I got it!" Ginger said excitedly, as she unfolded the paper. "Oh, look, it's an article about Debbie."

Ginger's face slowly fell as she read. When she was done, she looked around, but nobody would look back at her. She folded up the paper, put it on the table, and forced a smile.

"They love her," she said. "That's great. I'll have to send her some flowers. Come on, Jimmy, we'd better go."

"Yes, ma'am." They left through the kitchen door.

"Oh, poor Ginger," Mary Ann said as she picked up the bowl of batter and resumed her stirring.

"_Gilligan!_" Gilligan jumped at the familiar sound of the Skipper bellowing his name. The kitchen door slammed as Skipper barged inside. "Gilligan, I have been waiting on the roof for the last ten minutes, waiting for that water."

"I'm sorry, Skipper," Gilligan said. "Here it is." He handed him the jug of water. "I'll be there in a minute."

Skipper sighed, gave his first mate an annoyed look, and took the jug of water back outside. Gilligan began to follow him, then stopped in the doorway.

"Hey, Mary Ann," he said. "I changed my mind. Let Ginger lick the bowl. Maybe it'll cheer her up."

The sun was going down when Jimmy brought Ginger back to the farmhouse that evening.

"I'll see you at the party later," Ginger said.

"I can't wait," he said. "I'll save you a dance."

Ginger was walking to the door when she heard Gilligan's voice: "Hey, Ginger!"

The redhead stopped, looked up and saw Gilligan and Skipper looking down at her from the roof.

"Hi," she said. "Are you still working on the roof?"

"We're just fixing this last patch over your room," Skipper said. "Then we should be done."

"Oh, well, be careful."

"You don't have to worry about us," Gilligan said.

Ginger went inside and walked upstairs to the room she shared with Mary Ann. She found her roommate sitting in front of the vanity, sewing a button onto one of Mr. Howell's shirts.

"Hi, Mary Ann."

"Hi, Ginger," she said. "I'm afraid you missed dinner. We ate early because of the party, but there should be leftovers in the kitchen."

"Oh, that's all right," Ginger said. "I ate with the twins." She went to her bed to put down her purse and found a bouquet of wildflowers laying there. "Are these for me?" she asked, picking them up.

Mary Ann smiled knowingly. "Uh-huh."

"Where did they come from?"

"A very smart gentleman friend left them for you. He thought they might cheer you up."

Judging by the smile on Ginger's face, he had been right. Mary Ann cut her thread and left to take Mr. Howell his shirt back.

That's when Ginger made a decision: it was time for her to speak up. After all, she was Ginger Grant. She wasn't afraid of anything.

She put her bouquet down and went to the closet to pick out a dress for the party. If she was going to go through with this, she would have to look her best. That's when she heard a terrible crash from behind her, and a sprinkle of dust fell on her. She had a feeling she knew what it was even before she turned and saw Gilligan on the floor, laying in the middle of a pile of wood and shingles.

"Oh, Gilligan!" She hurried over and helped him up. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm okay," he said.

The two of them looked up at the hole in the ceiling where the Skipper was looking down at them. Gilligan put his hat back on.

"Don't worry, Ginger," he said. He pointed upwards. "We can fix that."

The twins' birthday party was being held in the bar on Main Street. The former castaways had never been inside, and in fact, the building had been vacant for several months, if not a year. The twins had spent the last two days cleaning and preparing it for the party.

When the former castaways arrived, Patti was standing next to the stage, trying to get the old jukebox to work, and Jimmy was behind the bar, making a drink for Mr. Carlisle. Mr. and Mrs. Howell walked right to them.

"Hey, folks," Jimmy said. "Glad you could make it."

"Hello, James," Mrs. Howell said.

"I must say, Francis," Mr. Howell said. "I'm a bit surprised to see you here."

"Well, why?" Mr. Carlisle said. "I'm a member of this little...community. Naturally, I'd want to celebrate the birth of our dear young friends."

Jimmy smiled as he slid Mr. Carlisle's drink across the bar to him. "And there's an open bar."

"You know me so well." Mr. Carlisle touched his glass to Jimmy's bottle.

"James, don't tell me you're working at your own party," Mrs. Howell said.

"All right, I won't tell you," Jimmy said. "Y'all want a drink?"

"Dear boy, you're not supposed to work at your own event."

"I'm not?"

"Of course not. Thurston, take over for him."

"Oh, it's all right, Mrs. Howell," Jimmy said. "I like tending bar. You can join me if you want, though, Mr. Howell."

"Well, I'm a little out of practice," Mr. Howell said. "But it might be fun, at that." He took off his jacket and joined Jimmy behind the bar. "Tell me, my boy, do you know how to make a Royal Bermuda Cocktail?"

Jimmy thought for a second. "No."

"Neither do I, but let's give it a shot." He slapped Jimmy on the back, and laughed cheerfully.

Mrs. Howell left the boys to have their fun, and joined the girls at a nearby table.

"That cake looks delicious, Mary Ann," Patti said.

"Thank you," Mary Ann said.

"I must say, Patricia, that you look absolutely darling," Mrs. Howell said.

"Well, thanks, Mrs. Howell," Patti said, pulling at the skirt of her dress. With her curled hair and small heels, she looked as glamorous as the castaways had ever seen her. "I haven't been this dressed-up since my cousin Peggy's first wedding."

"What about her second wedding?" Ginger asked.

"We weren't invited to the second wedding," Patti said quietly. She glanced towards her brother. "There was an incident."

"Oh."

Music came from the corner of the room. The women turned and saw the Professor step out from behind the jukebox.

"Oh, you fixed it," Ginger said happily.

"My hero," Patti said with a grin.

"It was simply a disconnected wire behind the speakers," the Professor said.

"You sure were lucky to have him around on that island," Patti said.

"We know," Ginger said.

"Y'all excuse me. I'm gonna go chat with our bartenders."

Patti walked over to the bar. Before she could say anything, Jimmy held a glass out to her full of ice and a cloudy brown mixture of liquids.

"Drink this," he said.

"No," she said.

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not stupid enough to drink something just cause you say to."

Gilligan walked up to the bar with a smile. "Hi, guys. And Patti."

Jimmy and Mr. Howell shared a look, and Jimmy held the glass out to Gilligan. "Drink this."

"Okay."

Patti put her head in her hand as Gilligan enthusiastically drained the glass. His eyes bulged and he slammed it down on the bar, his mouth open as he gasped as if he were drowning. Mr. Howell picked up the empty glass, glanced at it calmly, and looked at Jimmy.

"Better make it a double," he said.

"Yeah," Jimmy said.

Patti reached over the bar, pulled out a hose and sprayed a rush of water into Gilligan's mouth. He closed his mouth and awkwardly swallowed the water.

"Thanks," he said. "What _was_ that?"

"We call it a Gilligan," Mr. Howell said with a grin.

Gilligan frowned. "Thanks. Can I just have a pop?" Jimmy pulled out a bottle of soda, popped the cap off, and handed it to him. Gilligan took a small, cautious sip as he walked away.

The Skipper and the Professor walked up to the bar.

"What can we get you, gentlemen?" Mr. Howell asked cheerfully.

"With you two behind the bar," Professor said with a smile. "I'll just have water, thank you."

"What about you, Skipper?" Mr. Howell asked as Jimmy poured the Professor's water. "Can I interest you in trying a Double Gilligan?"

The Skipper didn't need to see Patti fervently shaking her head to know the answer: "No thanks, Mr. Howell. One Gilligan is enough for me."

Ginger sauntered up to the bar and leaned on the Professor's shoulder. "Are you going to ask me to dance or not?" she asked with a smile.

"Certainly," Professor said. He took a small drink of water before letting Ginger steer him onto the dance floor.

Patti leaned over to look at Mr. Carlisle's watch, then, with a resigned sigh, took some money out of her pocket. Mary Ann was already standing at her elbow with a smile.

"Here," Patti said as she handed Mary Ann the money.

"Thank you," Mary Ann said.

"Twenty minutes," Patti said. "Amazing. I thought it would at least take her a few drinks."

"Patti," Jimmy scolded his sister as Mary Ann walked away. "You know the law about gambling."

"Cut me a break, Sheriff," Patti said. "It's just a friendly little wager."

"Precisely," Mr. Carlisle said. "And if the skinny kid kisses the brunette before midnight, I'm a hundred dollars richer."

On the dance floor, the Professor and Ginger were only paying attention to each other, moving together to the music coming from the corner of the room.

After a couple moments of silence, Ginger said seriously, "Professor, I think we need to talk."

The Professor sighed. "Yes, I suppose we do." They had been dancing around the subject since the rescue, and it was time to put it out in the open. "Why don't you speak first?"

"Well, you must know how I feel about you," she said. "I haven't exactly been subtle. You're kind, and handsome, and brilliant, and you've always treated me with respect. And I know it doesn't make a lot of sense for a man like you to fall for a woman like me, but, well, it certainly wouldn't be the strangest thing that's happened since we met, would it?"

The Professor smiled and fell silent for a moment as he thought. Ginger watched him carefully.

"Ginger," he finally said. "You are...beautiful, kind, talented, and much smarter than you give yourself credit for. You can have any man you choose, and I am incredibly flattered that you would want to choose me."

"But?" she asked grimly. She knew that there was one coming.

But the way they felt didn't change their reality. "But we are not on the island anymore," he said. "And we can't stay here forever. We come from two very different lives, and we're very different people."

"Like you and Erika Tiffany-Smith," Ginger said.

"Exactly," the Professor said. Although, truth be told, his feelings for Ginger had grown stronger than his feelings for Erika had ever been.

Ginger stepped away from him, even though the music was still playing. "Thank you for the dance," she said, unable to look at him.

He felt her hand slip slowly out of his as she walked away, and he was left standing alone on the dance floor. Ginger felt everybody watching her as she walked into the back hallway and went to the door. It took a slight shove to get it open, and it creaked loudly as she pushed it and stepped onto the back porch. It was raining and had turned cold. Ginger hugged herself and walked as close to the edge as she could without getting wet.

Well, at least it was over with. As painful as it was, she'd done what she had to. Of course, she should have waited until later in the night. There was no way she could go back into the party now. Perhaps she should wait for the rain to pass and just catch the next train out of town. Except there was nothing to go back to, now that she was out of a job.

Perhaps she should just stop thinking.

"Hi," Mary Ann's gentle voice came from the doorway. Ginger gave her a smile, and Mary Ann stepped outside, carrying two glasses of a cloudy brown drink. "Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Ginger said. "I was just rejected and humiliated in front of the entire town, that's all." She looked at the glasses that the brunette was carrying. "What do you have there?"

"I don't know what it's called," Mary Ann said. "I just asked for two of the strongest drink they have."

"Good girl," Ginger said with a smile, taking one of the glasses.

"A toast?" Mary Ann said, holding up her glass.

"To good girlfriends."

"I'll drink to that."

The two women touched their glasses together, then each took a big drink, and promptly spit them out.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed! I love reviews, so please leave one!


	15. Talking Business

I still don't own _Gilligan's Island_, and I'm beginning to think it's not gonna happen.

I am also not a lawyer and don't know anything about real-estate or property law, so I probably got something wrong in this chapter. (Man, I'm a real underachiever, aren't I?)

* * *

Everyone got off to a late start the next morning. By the time the former castaways (minus the Professor) were assembled around the kitchen table for breakfast, it was almost noon, and they had silently agreed to just call it brunch. They ate slowly and silently, every loud noise met with six winces and moans as they tried to fight off their collective headache.

The Professor walked in through the back door. "Good morning," he said cheerfully, gaining himself a few glares.

"Well, you're awfully chipper," Skipper said.

"Certainly. I've almost finished setting up the new irrigation system in the field."

"Thank you, Professor," Mary Ann said tiredly.

"My pleasure."

The front door slammed shut, and there were seven groans in response, one of which came from the living room. Jimmy walked into the kitchen, holding a hand to his head. "Morning, folks," he said tiredly.

He received a few half-hearted greetings in return as he sat down between Ginger and the Professor.

"Professor, Patti said that those parts for that thing should be in the mail with the afternoon train," he said.

"Wonderful," Professor said. "I should be able to get that system up and running by tomorrow."

"Oh, and Mary Ann, your friend William didn't know the house number, so he called Patti. He'll be on the afternoon train, too."

"William's coming?" she said excitedly.

"Yeah."

She gave a happy squeal, and jumped up from the table. "Oh, I better go get ready!" She ran out of the room and hurried upstairs.

"Are we going to the theater today?" Jimmy asked Ginger.

"Yes," she said. "As soon as Mary Ann is ready. If Mr. Carlisle is up, I want to ask if he'll help us. He probably knows more about re-upholstering chairs than we do."

"That isn't saying much." He looked around the table and smiled. "Did everyone have fun last night?"

"I suppose you could call it that," Mr. Howell said. "I haven't felt like this since the Oyster Bay Yacht Club's Fiftieth Anniversary Gala."

"What happened at the Oyster Bay Yacht Club's Fiftieth Anniversary Gala?" Gilligan asked.

"I haven't the foggiest."

"Must we talk about last night?" Ginger said wearily.

"I'm sorry, Ginger," Jimmy said. "If I'd been rejected and humiliated in front of the entire town, I wouldn't want to..." His voice trailed off when he saw the look Ginger was giving him. "...talk about it, either. Boy, that coffee smells good. I better get me some." He hurried away from Ginger and over to the stove.

"Skipper, what are we doing today?" Gilligan asked.

"_We_ are fixing the hole that _you_ put in the girls' bedroom roof," Skipper said.

"Oh, yeah," Gilligan said grumpily. "I forgot about that."

For a moment, Skipper thought that Gilligan was simply unhappy about having to work, or being reminded of his clumsiness. Then he realized: he didn't want to be around the house- much less the girls' room- while Mary Ann's boyfriend was around. And Skipper couldn't blame him in the least.

"Listen, Little Buddy," he said gently, or as gentle as the Skipper ever was. "I can probably fix the roof by myself. There are other things you should be doing."

"Like what?" Gilligan asked.

"Well, like..." He searched his mind, but came up with nothing. "Well, now that you mention it, I don't know. We've done pretty much all the repairs on the house and the barn. Mrs. Howell said she and Mr. Carlisle are just about done with the decorating." Mrs. Howell gave a tired nod in confirmation, without even opening her eyes.

"Why don't you come into town with us, Gilligan?" Ginger said. "We can always use an extra pair of hands at the theater."

"Even mine?" he said.

"Even yours," she said with a smile.

When the Professor and Mary Ann walked into the general store a short while later, they found Patti at the front counter.

"Good morning, Patti," The Professor said.

"Morning, y'all," she said wearily, her head resting on her hands.

"You sound like we feel," Mary Ann said with a smile.

"I think I feel like you feel, too," Patti said. "I guess Jimmy gave you my messages."

"Yes," Professor said. "We came in to meet the afternoon train."

"How long do you think it'll be?" Mary Ann asked.

Patti glanced at her watch. "About another hour," she said.

"I'm hoping to finish setting up our irrigation system today," Professor said. "But I think I may need some more screws."

"I haven't moved 'em," she said. "Help yourself. I'll just add it onto Howell's account." Once the Professor had walked away, she leaned over the counter and whispered to Mary Ann, "How's Ginger doing?"

"I think she's okay," Mary Ann said. "She's working today."

"That's good."

"Patti!" Jimmy's voice came from outside as they heard his footsteps running across the porch. He appeared in the doorway. "There's a car coming up the road."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Come on!"

They followed him onto the porch, where Ginger and Gilligan were watching a blue convertible drive up the road towards them. As the driver's face came into view, Jimmy and Patti's smiles faded.

"Is that-" Jimmy said.

"Yep," Patti said shortly, crossing her arms.

"A friend of yours?" Mary Ann asked.

"No," the twins said together.

The car pulled up and parked in front of the store, and the driver climbed out. He was in his mid-50s, wearing an expensive, tailored suit and a big smile.

"You have _some _nerve, setting foot in my town again," Patti said.

"It's good to see you again, too..._Mayor_," the man said.

"Jimmy, get my shotgun."

"Now, there's no need for that," the visitor said, holding up his hands. "I come in peace."

Patti stepped off the porch. "You came because you smelled money."

"I came at the request of my dear friend, Thurston Howell."

"You're a friend of Howell's," she said quietly. "That figures," she said with disappointment apparent in her voice.

"I don't believe we've been introduced," Professor said. He stepped forward and shook the visitor's hand. "Professor Roy Hinkley."

"Professor," the visitor said happily. "Good to put a face to the name. Henry Merryweather, Merryweather Properties. Now, where can I find our friend Thurston?"

"He's at the farm," Gilligan said.

"Thank you, my boy." He studied him for a brief moment. "You must be Gilligan."

"How did you know?"

"Lucky guess." He climbed back into his car. "Thank you for the warm welcome, as always, Mayor."

"Do you need a guide?" Professor asked.

"He can find it himself," Patti said. "He's been there before."

The group watched as Mr. Merryweather drove away, then they turned to Patti.

"Patti," the Professor said. "I couldn't help but observe a distinctly strong animosity between yourself and our new acquaintance."

Patti turned to her brother and nodded towards the Professor. "Nothing gets by this one. Come on," she said to the group. "I have something y'all need to see."

She took them to the back room of the city clerk's office, where there was an old wooden table and about a dozen filing cabinets. She took out a large roll of paper and opened it on the table, revealing a map of the town. She leaned on the table as she pointed and spoke:

"The train tracks run almost right through the middle of town. Everything west of them- the main part of town, our farm, all that land- belongs to either the town, or our family. Everything east has been bought up by Mr. Merryweather, except for Mr. Friedman's farm."

"What's he going to do with all that land?" Ginger asked.

"Build a freeway," Patti said. "Which will go over the eastern half of town, passing us by and bringing nothing but pollution and noise."

"It won't bring people?" Mary Ann asked.

"Not unless they put in an off-ramp," Jimmy said. "Which he's not going to do unless we sell the western half, which we're not willing to do. That's the offer we got last time he was here, anyway."

"And you believe Mr. Friedman kept the farm rather than selling it, in order to avoid this?" Professor asked.

"That's what I thought," Patti said. "But he left it to Howell, who's gonna sell it anyway."

"Oh, Mr. Howell won't do that," Gilligan said.

"Gilligan," Professor said patiently. "Mr. Howell, though prone to bouts of sentimentality, is first and foremost a businessman. His main motivation is profit."

"Well, we've got to try to convince him, anyway," Mary Ann said. "We'll talk to him tonight," she told Patti.

Ginger and Gilligan arrived home early that evening, done in by their impatience to hear Mr. Howell's decision. When they pulled up and didn't see Mr. Merryweather's car, Ginger wasn't sure what to think.

"I'm real sorry about that chair, Ginger," Gilligan said as they walked up onto the porch.

"It's okay, Gilligan," she said. "It's nothing that can't be fixed." Silently, she hoped William wouldn't be staying long. Working with Gilligan was an adventure best had in small doses.

They walked into the living room and met Mary Ann as she came in from the kitchen. She greeted them with a smile.

"Hey, you two," she said. "You're just in time for dinner."

"Great," Gilligan said happily.

"Skipper and the Professor are in the kitchen," Mary Ann said. "I was just heading upstairs to tell everyone else."

Ginger and Gilligan found Skipper and Professor sitting at the kitchen table, with eight places already set.

"Hey, Skipper," Gilligan said excitedly, sitting down next to him. "What did Mr. Howell say? Is he gonna sell the farm? What's he gonna do?"

"Calm down, Gilligan," Skipper said. "Howell hasn't said anything. He hasn't made a decision yet."

"He's spent most of the day upstairs," Professor said. "Discussing business with Mr. Merryweather."

"Ginger, is it as serious as the Professor and Mary Ann said?" Skipper asked.

"The twins certainly think so," Ginger said. "You should have seen Patti. She looked at him with murder in her eyes."

Mr. Howell walked into the kitchen, and Gilligan jumped out of his seat to meet him at the door.

"Mr. Howell," he said excitedly. "What are you going to do? Are you gonna sell the farm? Are you?"

"Gilligan, will you calm down," Mr. Howell said impatiently. "Don't you know it's impolite to discuss business at the dinner table?"

"What about the living room?"

"As I've been telling everybody, all day, I have not made a decision yet," he said. "I'll _let you know_."

"Mr. Howell, it's real important to the town," Gilligan said.

"Well, I understand," Mr. Howell said. "It's important to me, as well. That's why I need time to make the right decision, you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

The phone rang.

"Be a good boy and get the phone, will you?" Mr. Howell said.

"Yes, sir." Gilligan walked to the phone that hung on the wall by the refrigerator and picked it up. "Hello?"

"This is Bernie Grossman," a man said in a loud voice with a prominent New York accent. "Who is this?"

"This is Gilligan."

"Gilligan again, huh? Doesn't anybody else in that house know how to answer the phone?"

"I guess not," Gilligan said.

"Well, put Ginger on for me, will ya?" Bernie said.

"Yes, sir." Gilligan pulled the receiver away and said, "Hey, Ginger, it's your agent."

"Oh, good," she said happily. "I'll pick it up upstairs." She hurried out of the room and up the stairs, and answered the phone on the hall table. "Hi, Bernie."

"Ginger, babe," Bernie said cheerfully. There was a small click as Gilligan hung up the downstairs line. "How's life in the sticks?"

"I've had better weeks," she said.

"Well, I'm about to make it a better week," Bernie said. "Much better. Harold Hecuba's new picture starts filming next week."

"I know. That's the one Debbie's starring in."

"Correction, my dear: that's the one Debbie _was_ starring in, before she became the toast of off-Broadway. Now it's the one starring the beautiful Ginger Grant."

"_Me?_" Ginger said.

"Do you know any other beautiful Ginger Grants? Because I don't. Now get that red head of yours back to the West Coast. We've got a lot of work to do."

"Oh, I don't know, Bernie," she said. "Things have been crazy around here. It's not really a good time."

"What, do you think you'll get back and the place won't be there?"

"Yes."

"I know it gets windy in Oklahoma, but come on, kid," Bernie said. "Look, it's a month of work, we save your career, and you get a nice paycheck that you can use to save all the little theaters in Waywind."

"Wayward," she said.

"That's what I said. Everyone wins."

Ginger fell silent for a moment. Bernie had a point. They both knew her career was in jeopardy, and she could put that money to good use, helping the theater. And if Mr. Howell decided to sell the farm, what use would she be here anyway?

"Kid?"

"Make the deal," she said. "I'll leave tomorrow."

* * *

I don't know how well I've been keeping up with responding to comments. I'm sorry, and I'll try to be better about that. I promise, I see and appreciate and love every comment and favorite that I get. Thank you!


	16. Logical Choices

Wow, it's been 11 months since I updated. I'm so sorry about that.

As usual, I don't own _Gilligan's Island_, and honestly, that's probably for the best.

* * *

Jimmy had a bad feeling as he drove up to the Friedman farm the next morning. The day before had been bad, and today was probably gonna be worse. Ginger was leaving on the Noon train, and Mr. Howell still hadn't decided whether he was selling to Mr. Merryweather or not. The longer Mr. Howell took to decide, the more certain Patti became that he would, but Jimmy was still trying to keep his hopes up.

When he got out of the truck, he found Gilligan sitting on the front porch steps, carving a piece of wood. "Morning, Gilligan."

"What's good about it?" Gilligan asked.

"I didn't say it was good. I just said it was morning."

Gilligan glanced up at the sky. "Oh, yeah, it is."

Jimmy leaned on the railing. "What are you so glum about?"

"What's there to be happy about?" Gilligan asked. "Ginger's leaving, and Mr. Howell's selling the farm, and..." His voice trailed off, but Jimmy barely noticed.

"Mr. Howell made up his mind?"

"No," Gilligan said. "But the Professor thinks he's gonna sell, and he's usually right. That's why he's a Professor."

"That makes sense."

"Hi, Jimmy," Mary Ann said as she and William walked in from the fields. Gilligan looked down to resume his carving.

"Morning, Miss Mary Ann," Jimmy said with his usual smile and a tip of his hat, followed by a curter nod for William.

"Ginger's all packed and ready," Mary Ann said as they walked up the steps. "I'll let her know you're here."

"Thanks." Jimmy waited until William and Mary Ann were inside before asking Gilligan, "How long is Miss Mary Ann's fella supposed to be staying?"

"I dunno," Gilligan said with a shrug.

"You like him?"

"Yeah, he's a swell guy," Gilligan said, in the same glum tone.

"Yeah, it sounds like it."

The front door opened and Ginger looked out. "Hi, Jimmy."

"Hi, Ginger."

"My bags are just inside here," she said. "Would you mind getting them? I still have to say good-bye to the Professor."

"Yes, ma'am."

The boys began moving the luggage while Ginger went upstairs. She had already said her good-byes to the Howells, the Skipper, Mary Ann, and even William, but not yet the Professor. With the uncertainty hanging over Mr. Friedman's property, she wasn't sure when they would be seeing each other again, and she wanted to leave things on a good note. He was, after all, still one of her dearest friends.

She knocked on his door and heard a "Come in." When she entered she found him, as usual, hunched over his desk, writing. He quickly rose from his seat when he saw her.

"Did you think you could get away with not saying good-bye to me?" she asked with a teasing smile.

"Are you about to leave?" The Professor asked, joining her near the door.

She nodded. "I'm riding into town with Jimmy and Gilligan to catch the twelve o'clock train."

"Do you have any indication of when you'll be returning?" he asked. He assumed- or perhaps simply hoped- that she planned to return to complete her work at the theater, regardless of the outcome of the current uncertainty concerning Mr. Friedman's property.

"Bernie said it would be about a month, but it's hard to tell. I'll be sure to let you know." Ginger paused for a moment, then asked carefully, "Professor. Do you really believe Mr. Howell will sell the farm?"

The Professor sighed. "I do. Mr. Howell is, first and foremost, a businessman. Selling is the most profitable option."

"It didn't take him long on Wall Street to grow back those wolf fangs," she said with a pout.

"Well, he is still as human as the rest of us," the Professor said. "Perhaps his sense of sentimentality can still overrule his pragmatism."

"Well, make sure you help him with that."

"I will give it a valiant effort, I assure you. Although, my skills of persuasion are not as well-honed as some," he said with a smile.

She returned the smile and gave a tiny nod as she said, "Good-bye, Professor."

"Good-bye, Ginger."

She gave him a long, lingering kiss on the cheek before she slowly turned away and left the room, both of them silently hoping that she would be back sooner rather than later.

Mary Ann held her red gingham dress up in front of her. She was surprised what good shape it was in, all things considered. Socials in Winfield, days and nights on the island, and everything in between, with barely a thread out of place. And now it was about to go back in her closet to await whatever came next. What a reliable little dress, to stick with her through everything.

She was hanging it in the closet when there was a knock on the door. William walked in with a smile.

"Hey," he said, closing the door behind him. "What are you doing?"

"Just putting away some laundry," she said with a shrug. "Don't know why. I expect I'll be packing it all away soon."

"You really think Howell's gonna sell this place?"

Mary Ann was quiet for a moment before she shrugged. "I don't know. That's the thing about Mr. Howell. You never know if you're dealing with the 'Wolf of Wall Street' or...the man who gave Gilligan his teddy bear when he ran off to live in a cave," she remembered with a smile.

"Why did Gilligan go live in a cave?" William asked.

"Which time?"

"Never mind," he said. He sat down on the bed and took Mary Ann's hand to gently pull her over. "Enough about that. When are you gonna marry me?"

"William..." He had asked before, a few times, and it was a fair question. They had been together since her return to Kansas, and she did care about him deeply. He was a sweet, wonderful man and she loved being around him. Yet every time the subject came up, there was something that held her back from saying yes. "I don't know," she said. "I'm not ready to get married." It was the best way she could think to put it.

"You know, my grandma says, if everybody waited until they were ready to do something, nothing would ever get done," William said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small diamond ring. "I took a big chance coming here, and I think I deserve to go home with an answer."

Mary Ann looked at him with a nervous smile. What was it, exactly, that was holding her back? The farm? Her fellow castaways? Or was it just one?

William was right: he deserved an answer, and maybe it was time for Mary Ann to move on. Maybe it was time for all of them to move on.

She smiled. "Well, then, my answer is yes."

Patti gave a weary sigh as she stepped onto the porch of the general store and looked out onto her quiet, empty town. She did this a lot, standing there and trying to picture it busy and bustling again, like she remembered it being when she was young. Now it seemed like that was never going to happen.

She saw her brother coming her way and gave him a smile. At least, when all was said and done, she still had Jimmy.

"Hey, little brother," she said.

"Hey," he said, joining her on the porch. "Did you hear about Miss Mary Ann?"

"Yeah," she said. "She called earlier." Patti gave a sad sigh as she thought about everything that was happening, and the fact that their new friends would all be leaving soon. _And all thanks to this guy,_ she thought as she saw Merryweather coming down the road, walking with that irritating swagger that rich people always seemed to have.

"How are you on this fine afternoon, _Mayor_?" he asked with a smug grin.

"Not as good as I'll be when you leave," she said, matching his grin with an equally cheeky one of her own.

"Well, then I have good news for you," Merryweather said. "I came to request a check-out from your _charming_ little inn."

Patti's smile suddenly became more genuine. "Oh, giving up, are you?" she asked.

"On the contrary," he said, reaching into his jacket. He pulled out a small stack of papers, unfolded them and held them up so she could see Mr. Howell's signature on the bottom line. "I got precisely what I came for."

Patti's face fell. She grabbed the papers from him, examined the signature, and then practically threw them back to him. She stormed past him to where the twins' truck was parked, with Jimmy hurrying behind her.

"I'll just wait here, shall I?" Merryweather said.

"You'll just get out of my town," Patti said.

"But not before you check out," Jimmy said quickly. "You still have to pay your bill." He barely managed to jump into the truck before his sister drove away.

The Professor stood on the porch, leaning against the railing and looking out on the fields that they had all worked so hard on for so many months, all for naught. The truly unfortunate fact of the matter was that everything had proceeded precisely as he had expected. Gilligan had kept his feelings to himself, and so Mary Ann had chosen to move on. Ginger had chosen to return to Hollywood to salvage her career. Mr. Howell had done what he always did and made a businessman's decision. Everyone had made their most logical choice, and here was the result.

The Skipper sat behind him in one of the rocking chairs, deep in thought. "I don't know what to do, Professor," he admitted in frustration.

"To which particular problem are you referring?" The Professor asked, turning to his friend.

"Either of them." Skipper shook his head. "I wish I could do something for my little buddy."

"Well, Skipper, you tried. We all tried."

"Hey, guys," Gilligan said, coming onto the porch.

"Hello, Gilligan."

"What are you talkin' about?"

"You," Skipper said with a pointed glare.

"Oh, well, don't let me stop you," he said. He tried to hurry back into the house, but the Skipper's "Gilligan!" cry kept him in place.

Skipper rose from his chair to face his first mate closely, and spoke in the familiar tone that he used when he was struggling to keep his patience in check: "Gilligan, are you really telling me that you're just gonna let Mary Ann get married without telling her how you feel?"

"Yep."

Before Skipper had a chance to lose his temper, Mrs. Howell joined them and the conversation turned her way, much to Gilligan's relief.

"Mrs. Howell," Professor said. "Have you had any luck?"

"Oh, I'm afraid not," she said sadly. "You know how Thurston can be: when he makes up his mind, it's almost impossible to convince him any other way."

Neither Skipper nor the Professor were surprised, but Gilligan had other worries.

"Skipper," he said. "Please don't make me tell Patti." Most of the time, he was okay with taking the jobs that nobody else would do, but he wasn't sure if he would come back from this one. Skipper was trying to decide if this was, in fact, a Gilligan Job when Patti and Jimmy's truck pulled up in the driveway. They came to an abrupt stop, and Patti slammed the door as she got out.

"Gilligan," Professor said calmly. "I don't believe that will be an issue."

"Where is that selfish, opportunistic snake?" Patti asked, hurrying onto the porch.

"To whom are you referring?" Mrs. Howell asked.

"Your husband."

"Oh, he's upstairs in the office," Mrs. Howell said, waving nonchalantly to the door.

"Thank you," Patti said before storming into the house.

"Skipper," Gilligan said. "It wouldn't be right to go listen in, would it?"

"No," Skipper said, slowly and unsurely. "It wouldn't."

The four of them hesitated for the briefest moment before they all hurried inside and up the stairs.

Mr. Howell was sitting in an armchair in the corner of his office/bedroom, working through his second glass of Vodka. It had been a long, hard day, and the evening was young still. He had no doubt that Patricia would be making an appearance soon.

"How _dare_ you?!" Indeed, there she was.

Mr. Howell picked up his glass and rose from his seat with even more dramatic flair than usual. "How _dare _I, she asks, after she enters without knocking and slams the door behind her! How dare I do what, Patricia? How dare I sell a property that is legally mine to sell? How dare I make an incredibly difficult decision that you happen to not agree with?"

"How dare you do this to my town?" she asked, coldly. Thurston must have had too much to drink already, because her expression of anger looked astonishingly like Frederick's. "You know how important this was to us."

"I understand," he said with a calm nod. "That's why this was such a difficult decision."

"You mean it didn't have anything to do with the giant pile of money Merryweather offered you?" she asked skeptically.

"Despite what some may think, I do not make decisions based solely on money. Frederick left this property to me because he trusted that I could make the hard choice."

"No, he trusted that you could make the _right_ choice."

"How _dare_ you presume to know what Frederick wanted! You knew him a matter of weeks. I was his closest friend for twenty years."

"And he trusted you to take care of this place. But no. You decided that it was too much work, so-"

"Don't talk to me about _work_!" Mr. Howell exclaimed, slamming his glass down on the table. "I've worked hard every day for the last forty years! I've built an empire! A legacy! Don't tell me that I haven't earned the right to say 'No'!"

"I have a legacy, too," Patti said. "And you just sold it out from under me."

"Then you build something else. You start over. That's the nature of progress, my dear: one thing ends, and something new begins."

"You say whatever you need to convince yourself," she said. She turned to leave and opened the door to find all of their friends gathered around the doorway. Everyone made a valiant effort to pretend that they hadn't been eavesdropping.

"I'll be at the bar," Patti said as she passed through the small crowd. "Anybody wants to join me, they're welcome."

One by one, everyone followed her except Mrs. Howell, who first went into the bedroom. She found her purse, checked herself in the mirror, and headed for the door.

"Lovey," Mr. Howell said sadly, sitting in his chair again. "Do you hate me, too?"

She gave him a sad smile. "Thurston, I've stood by your side for thirty years, and shall for thirty more. I'm simply disappointed, and I think that our friends need me tonight."

She closed the door behind her as she left her husband alone.

* * *

Comments are very much appreciated!


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